


Birds become Dragons

by Nefaria_Black



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, Augurey, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Azkaban, Chamber of Secrets, Confrontations, Crups (Harry Potter), Drama, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Family, Family Fluff, Family Secrets, Friendship, Gen, Heir of Slytherin, Hogwarts, Hogwarts classes, Hurt/Comfort, Kneazles, Legilimency, Legilimens, Ministry worker Hermione Granger, Mistery, Other, Parseltongue, Professor Neville Longbottom, Prophecy, Prophetic Dreams, Quidditch, Resurrection Stone, Romance, Snakes, Some Humor, The Deathly Hallows, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Veil of Death (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:45:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 143,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nefaria_Black/pseuds/Nefaria_Black
Summary: The Malfoys arrive home after running from Hogwarts on May, 2ndDecisions must be madeAU Delphini is not raised by the Rowles





	1. The Sleeping Child

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the HP universe or its characters, I am not J.K. Rowling and I write for my own purposes, which are not monetary. If you recognize it, it’s not mine. There, done. Set the copyright hounds loose on someone else.

They ran home and waited. And feared.

Narcissa wasn't sure about what she feared the most. The Dark Lord winning? The Dark Lord losing? Bella dying? Bella rising with her Master? _No longer theirs. No matter what, no longer their Master. They were beyond mercy and the Dark Lord had none to start with._ _No longer their Master._

And then there was the child sleeping upstairs.

Lucius had wanted to send her away with Rodolphus. Lestrange had stayed behind with the child and ran for Hogwarts the moment he laid eyes on them. He ran for battle not out of loyalty but out of love. He didn't think victory, nor defeat, nor danger, nor madness. He thought _Bella_ and ran. Lucius thought _Fool_ and let him go. His brother-in-law was a thirsty man running for a mirage, a beautiful hallucination but no less a fatal one. He wasn't running for their Master. _Not my Master from now on. No matter what, rising or falling, I am no longer his._

But still the child slept upstairs.

Draco had stopped his father. He cared for the sleeping infant on the bed. He retrieved his cousin from his father's arms and took the baby to his rooms. Now he sat at the foot of his bed and stared at the soft pearly bundle atop his deep blue covers. Had he made a huge mistake in not letting go? Was his Master right about the weakness in love? _No longer our Master, no matter what. He will either die today or come to kill us._ _Not our Master anymore._

And so the child sleeps.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been working on this for a while. I didn't have an acccount here until today, so I'll be uploading a bunch of chapters today and then as they are finished  
> Reviews are very much appreciated, on any and all of the chapters  
> English is not my first language, sorry for any mishaps and weird phrasing. Just let me know and I will fix it  
> The word count builds up on the first chapthers, it's my very first fic and I'm still getting the hang of it


	2. Not So Unwanted

Their marks burned deep. Scorching black skulls and snakes that seemed to reach for their bones, through skin and muscle alike.

And then they were gone. A pinkish shade on both men's forearms. The child cries in the distance.

"Has he summoned you, Lucius?"

"I do not think so. He... He is gone, feels gone. The same as after Halloween all those years ago"

Draco is barely breathing when he stumbles into the living room. A look of fright in his ice blue eyes. Pale, pale skin over bones more and more evident over the last months.

"Is he coming, Father? For her? For us?"

"He won't come, Draco" Narcissa runs a hand through his soaked-in-sweat hair "We would be dead already. The Dark Lord has fallen. Light will come for us now."

Lucius' mind is running wild. They have to get rid of the girl. She is family and that kills him but she is also him. Narcissa lays her other hand on his shoulder when he paces past her.

"He is gone" she whispers, soothing both her husband and her son. Both her men and her boys. Relief is all she can feel. For a few moments that is. Then the sleeping child comes to her mind. She is family and she wants to keep her but what if Bella's madness is in her? What if her Father's darkness is too?

"Father, stop thinking of ways to send Delphie away "Draco can't believe he said that without being blasted across the room”. She is family and he is not allowing anyone near her. Not if they want to take her away. Not even if they want to cuddle her. He has seen what happens when unwanted people approach the pearly bundle. People hurt and things shatter, and it wasn't always her parents. She has both of them in her and he will not deny it.

"I will go to Potter. I'll tell him the truth."

"There is no need for that, Draco. We will simply raise her a Lestrange. That is how we keep everyone safe" And the world safe from her, she wonders.

"No, Cissy. Someone must know the truth. If something happens to us, if they send us into Azkaban... they will have to care for her and they must be ready" For what he knows not, but he fears the answer and so does not dwell in it. "Draco, bring him here. Now. Before the Aurors come"

 


	3. The Boy-Who-Saved-Them

"Potter, I must talk to you. It's urgent. And private."

The Boy-Who-Lived looks at him in disbelief. The dust of Hogwarts has not settled yet. He has friends to hug and friends to mourn and Malfoy _must talk to him_. _Privately. Merlin's sake, did we miss a Horcrux?_

When green eyes find blue ones, the latter dodge. Staring at the wall, then at the floor. Eventually they rise, Malfoy pride making its way up. Draco sighs.

"Out with it then."

"This is hardly private, Potter."

"This is a battleground and people are busy caring for the hurt and injured. They won't look twice at us; they won't pay any attention to what we say."

"This will not do. I cannot risk it. The peace we just conquered is going up in flames if any of our conversation is heard."

It's Harry's turn to sight. _The peace they conquered... I still feel like we all lost._ He moves toward the doors of the Great Hall. A quiet corner will do.

Draco cannot help but wince when he passes the Dark Lord's body on the ground. His aunt is by his side, as she always wanted and is proper. Wards were placed over the bodies. There will be solid evidence of Voldemort's death. The death of Mad Witch Lestrange will be duly noted too. Whole families will be able to breathe again. Something Malfoy seems to have forgotten how to do.

Rodolphus Lestrange is magically bound a few yards away. He lets tears down his cheeks and into his beard silently, without so much as shaking. His mirage is gone, a dried up oasis at the end of a path of destruction. He will not fail them. He will not stray from the shading lies agreed upon to keep the darkest secret of the whole war. The Dark Lord had loved. A witch of the purest blood had loved him in return. He will endure Azkaban again, for many more years, to keep that secret safe. He will endure much worst alone, though, the world unaware of his suffering. The returned Dementors will revel on it. The world will think such witch loved another, that such witch even allowed him close enough to bear him a child. The world will believe him a father to a child of his most beloved one, oblivious to the fact that they never were lovers. Not to each other. She was His. Only. Always.

Draco knows all this and so does not try to lift the man's gaze from the cold floor. Merely observes the deepest hurt in the last look he spares at the fallen wizard's tears when his dark eyes land upon a face of heavy-lidded ones, set amidst a mess of black curls.

"Don't worry about your family. I will speak of what you did for me, today and at the manor. I will speak of your mother too. They will not take you under arrest."

"Uh..." Draco needs a moment to compose himself. None of that was a concern of his. None of that mattered. Not for now. "The Dark Lord, Harry, he..."

"Say his name Draco, he is dead. Use his name. Voldemort!" Potter snaps. He's clutching his fists and there is a rage in the green eyes, no longer bright as they used to. "Voldemort! That simple. Tom bloody Riddle..."

"All right!" Draco stops him before he is so infuriated his reaction to what he is about to tell him becomes unpredictable. Before he himself loses his nerve "Voldemort left something behind. Someone. It's complicated. Can't we just find a quiet place?" He will lose his temper in the Great Hall and then there will be no hiding.

 _We missed a bloody Horcrux! God damned Tom left something else behind. Why can't he just die? Plenty of people did!_ Harry takes a breath like he's struggling not to drown and concedes. They are going to need a quiet room for this then. He thinks he should get Hermione. Her rational mind is probably in much better shape than his devastated one. But he doesn't. She is not a tea spoon, she needs to feel and not think right now.

 


	4. A Second Chance

Narcissa walks into her son's rooms. Past the sitting room and the ajar door that leads to a small office. There is slumber here. The pearly bundle and the child in it lay still on the bed. Lucius’ first instinct was to send her away from them, to clear all connections to the Dark Lord, to the Dark Arts. Just like before. But this time he could not. For this time around, there is blood binding them. He is a Malfoy and she is a Black. Dark Magic was never too far from them. It is in their family's blood lines, in their own blood. It sang inside them at the beginning. It sings in hers when she is near her niece, along with love. She hopes they were not wrong, that keeping her is right.

She sits on the bed, ever so lightly as not to disturb the sleeping baby. But she stirs almost immediately. Her Slytherin green eyes burst open and evaluate her surroundings. She looks at Narcissa and a happy little squeal comes from her lips. Stirring in the blankets, trying to break free. Narcissa picks her up, sits her on her lap and pulls the pearl white soft blanket down. Delphini kicks her feet, reaches for her aunt and smiles. Little hands touch Narcissa's lips and chin.

"Hello, little girl. How is my precious Delphie today?" A warm smile in her lips, brightness to her grey eyes from the tears she cannot shed. She must be strong for her. Protect her. Make sure she knows her mother loved her. Of her father's love she cannot tell her. She must not know. She will be a Lestrange, even if just in name.

Delphini grasps her aunt’s clothes and pulls. Her soft hands hold her up higher and she plants her tiny feet solidly on Narcissa's thighs. She looks into her eyes and changes hers. First to steel grey but loving eyes "Mama is not here, darling", then to a red glare that Narcissa only knows as menacing but that looks almost kind. _So the Dark Lord cared for his daughter too._ "He isn't here either" This is going to be much harder than she had thought.

"Let's get you some breakfast, shall we? Yes, Aunt Cissa will have the elf bring you warm milk, darling." It is all she can say, as she stands with the child in her arms, running her pale fingers over soft ink black curls. Delphini cuddles against her. Then rises again and makes her eyes icy blue while looking at her with a question in her face. "Draco is coming. Don't worry." Although she does. She can't be sure her son is coming home. The war is not over yet.

In the corridor she finds her husband.

"Cissy... I went to the nursery and she wasn't there so I came looking."

"I'm taking her back there. For breakfast. And safety. I don't want Potter and his people seeing her the minute they walk in our home."

"Yes, good thinking..." He trails off. Lucius just stares at his wife. She is beautiful. The war took its toll, still does, but she remains. And then there is the child in her arms. Were she blond and blue eyed and she could be their long wished for daughter. But that did not come to pass. It was so hard bringing Draco into existence, so very dangerous for his most beloved that he decided against it. Maybe this is a second chance. A very twisted one, but a chance none the less.

"Will you be so kind as to tell Wabby to send her milk to the nursery? I'll go ahead and change her first." She walks past him with softness in her eyes, in her smile, in her voice as she says sweet things to the baby. So soft and yet his rock through it all.

x

Lucius stands by the window in the nursery. It's a regal one, but airy and light too. His wife's work. His eyes fall upon Narcissa feeding Delphini on the rocking chair next to him. She is a content child, he thinks. Almost ten months old and already her magic whirls in the air around her, much too young to control it, creating little storms when she is not pleased, her hair in a convulsion of colours and piercing cries seeping through the walls. They will teach her, he thinks. She will be the perfect little scion of her Most Ancient and Noble House, proper and poised like a Malfoy, and probably powerful as the last Gaunt. _Not quite so much. Not quite as unhinged as her mother,_ he hopes, _and Merlin allow it, not as hungry for power as her father,_ he prays.

He tosses such thoughts aside. There is calm before a storm and he will enjoy it. Cherish it. And so he gazes at his wife holding their niece and hopes they have made the right choice. He takes a step forward and touches Delphini's forehead, almost smiling when both heavy-lidded green eyes and kind grey ones turn his way.


	5. Breaking the News

Potter just stares blankly at him. His pupils have gone wide, far beyond what Draco thinks healthy. He waits. And thinks back to the day he had learned of this.

He knew Aunt Bellatrix wasn't just a Death Eater. She was allowed certain privileges others were nowhere close to. Later he had realized that she would not walk towards the Lestrange's rooms at the Manor at night. She always went the other way, ever since she had recovered from Azkaban. Well, physically at least. Years of Dementors prying her mind had done irreversible damage. The other way happened to be the guest of honour chambers. The Dark Lord's. Others in the Inner-Circle knew too, but no one dared say anything. His Aunt liked the _Cruciatus_ too much. And their Master had a dangerous love of green light. When he came home after his failure he had wished for that green light. He still had the scars. Then, after days of being bedridden, Aunt Bella had come to check on him. He had gasped then. Her swollen belly proof of it all. When the child was born, aristocratic hypocrisy came into place and everyone rejoiced on the Lestrange heiress. Hypocrisy and survival instinct.

_You have had enough time, Potter. I need you to react now. And not destroy us all._

"Potter? We will raise her as Lestrange's daughter. I'm only telling you because someone on the Order side should know the truth."

"AND YOU TELL ME!?" He roared. He was reacting now. Thank Merlin he had put a _Muffliato_ spell on the room "Why would you tell me? I do not want to know, I'm done being responsible for all things Voldemort!"

"Who was I supposed to tell? Weasley? Hagrid? Granger?" He thinks she could have been a better choice.

"Anyone but me! How good are you with Obliviating spells? Forget that. I should get Hermione"

"POTTER! The whole point of doing this privately..."

"I can't think! I need her brains to figure this out! Now I wish I missed a Horcrux! Stay here, do nothing and let me get Hermione."

Draco simply reacts, all thinking forgotten. Harry finds himself bound to the floor, unable to move. He cannot let him ruin it. He will get Granger and bring her here. Weasley will probably follow them. He can get them to agree that Obliviating him is for the best. He steps outside and starts looking.

He finds her, tending to a Ravenclaw boy. He tells her to follow him, that Potter needs help with something and she practically runs out of the Great Hall. Not knowing where to go is all that stops her. Weasley sees them and rushes to her side, snarling. He tells him he can follow and promptly points a _Confundus_ spell at him the moment he frees Potter. Then Granger hell breaks loose and not even Potter will calm her.

"Granger, there are bigger things at play here! Shut up and listen! Potter needs you to think!" She gasps but says nothing and so he continues "Voldemort has a child. He had a daughter with my Aunt Bellatrix and we are going to keep her. She will know nothing of her real father, she will think herself a Lestrange, and we will make sure of it. Don't interrupt me! I'm telling you because someone must know the truth if something happens to us. When you join the Aurors in searching our place and no doubt arresting us for inquiries I need you to act like she is a Lestrange and not the seed of all evil. So I can take you back with me and show her to you two." He finishes, panting. He looks at Granger and she is as baffled as Potter was but reacts much faster.

"I see. All right take us. We can talk about it there. Hogwarts is hardly the place for this." There is firm resolution in her voice.

Potter seems relieved. So is he. Rationality is best for now. The emotional part must be left for later.

"Mione?" Weasley sounds drunk. He hit him hard. "What is going on? Why am I sitting on the floor?"

Bright sparks leave Granger's wand and he falls asleep.

"It's better if he doesn't know for the time being. We'll handle him when we get back." Potter's eyebrows almost leave his forehead "Don't look at me like that, Harry, I need you to placate him and make sure he never finds out. A Lestrange child he can handle. Voldemort's might be too much."

Draco smiles at that. "We can Apparate out of Hogwarts now. Shall we go?" Two loud cracks answer him. And so he leaves too.

 


	6. This is Delphini

They Apparate just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Draco commands the dark heavy metal to open by simply stepping forward. Potter follows him, gulping. His last memories of this place are not happy ones. They both stop a couple yards ahead, looking over their shoulders. Hermione Granger has not taken a single step. She is stuck to the gravel on the path, unmoving. Eyes wide without seeing. Remembering. Her hand reaches for her arm and holds tight, like something there hurts. Harry walks back to her, offering his hand and beckoning her to come.

"She is no longer here" Draco hears himself say "I know she hurted you but she isn't even alive anymore." There is a pang in his chest at that. A pain he hasn't paid attention to yet. He will deal with it later, so he swallows and brings his chin back up. "She cannot hurt you, not today, not ever again. Think Granger, we don't have much time before people notice you two gone."

That does it. She lets go of her arm and moves forward, intention in her stride, a purpose for every step. The large doors atop the stone steps come open for the heir of Malfoy and he leads the others into the house. Lucius Malfoy stares at them from across the hall, proud and judging.

 _So he came round,_ Draco thinks, _she conquered him too. She has a way of winning people over. Let's see how she fares with these two._

"They are not here to take her, Father. They will meet her and go back to Hogwarts. When the Ministry comes to investigate, they will stand by us on this matter."

"Very well, then. Do I need to take your wands?" He is back to his old self, all Pure-blood pride, sneering at the sight of something beneath him. It is all he can do not to break now, so that he does not reveal the utter relief coursing through his veins that he no longer has to fight children. That he is not put in a position of fighting for the Dark Lord's child, ruining all his chances of remaining free.

Draco shakes his head while holding a hand up at the others. This will go quietly. His father invites them further inside, leading the way up the staircase and through the corridors. Malfoy ancestors look down, some make remarks about the Mudblood and Draco is secretly sorry for Granger. They see Narcissa standing before double doors half way down a corridor. A lioness guarding them, really. She thinks it fortunate that her son came home, but she knows nothing of the intentions of his company and was not expecting two.

"Stand down, Mother. They mean no harm." He truly believes it but he can see the fright in their faces, the tension in their bodies and a corner of his mind regrets that they still have wands. "Is she still asleep?"

She shakes her head and turns, reaching for the door. Not for the handle but for the engraved wooden door itself. She puts her palm against it and it comes ajar.

"You have wards on the door?" Granger asks, her voice but a whisper.

"The Dark Lord had us put them in place. Only five people could open the door" He can see Granger doing the maths and noticing something. She has figured that Rodolphus was the one caring for Delphie during the battle, and that means one of the Malfoys was not allowed here. But he continues "He added something later but never told us what. I'm not sure if you can make it past... just be careful" He walks inside immediately after his mother and moves to stand between Delphini and the door. Narcissa notices but keeps her face steady and looks towards the door.

Harry and Hermione seem to be gathering all of their Gryffindor courage. Harry moves a hand forward, hoping for a stunning spell alone but all too aware that it may be much _much_ worse. When nothing happens, he steps in the room. Hermione follows him and they both take a moment to steady their hearts. Then, they look. Draco stands in their way but they can see her. They stare at the baby playing on the floor. A stuffed hippogriff forgotten by her side, playing with colourful cubes.

"She is... older than I thought" Granger breaks the ice "How old is she?"

"A bit over nine months" Draco answers and his voice draws the little girl's attention. She giggles, drops the cubes and crawls over to him. The little dress she's in ruffling against the carpet, becoming not-quite-so-white. "This is Delphini." He says, picking her up. The child takes in the sight of the two newcomers, quickly shifting her eyes between them.

"Nine months... that means..." Granger is mumbling, her mind alight and running "She is the reason Bellatrix wasn't there when Snape killed Dumbledore... She is named after a star, so no doubt people will believe her to be Bellatrix's." Narcissa looks at Hermione then, thinking the girl was also named after the dragon that guarded the oracle. But that is a Gaunt tradition and it will only hinder their chances. So the Slytherin in her beckons her silence.

"Since no one knew of the-the-the... affair" her face twists a bit at that "they will also assume she is Rodolphus’. I think there is a chance this could work, Harry."

Harry is dumbfounded. The Dark Lord's child has black hair and green eyes. He suddenly realizes that what he had seen through the connection with Voldemort were not memories of himself the night his parents died but thoughts of her, of this child. Now so obviously different, too young, curls in her hair and not a scar in sight.


	7. I Will Stand for This

"Harry? Are you all right? Is it the scar? Is she a Horcrux?" There is panic in her voice.

The Malfoys assume defensive stances, wands out. Hermione raises her hands, palms out.

"N-No. She is not. My scar is fine. It is just that... I had seen her before but I didn't realize it." Hermione gives him a wondering look for a second and then understands. She focuses on the little girl again and gasps. Her own eyes are staring back at her.

"A Metamorphmagus? I knew it ran in the Black family... I mean Tonks" she trails off at that, taken aback by the thought of another orphan. Narcissa closes her eyes and for a second it seems all the grief in the world is upon her.

"Oh, she does that. It’s how she tells us who she wants to hold her" Draco simply says, diverting the subject. _There is so much they should be discussing and instead here they are, baffled by her. Charmed by her,_ he thinks, proud of his little cousin.

"She will stay here. I can't vouch for the others but I will speak on your behalf and try to keep you and your parents free." Potter decides. "It is safer for everyone. Is she a Parselmouth? Don't tell me, just make sure absolutely no one else knows of it-"

"Harry!” Granger cuts him off “There is too much to discuss before making that decision. Her being a Parselmouth is the least of our problems. She could turn out to be... You know. We need to think this through."

"We do not-”

“Don’t you dare! You brought me in to think! I am, and you are not being rational about this!”

“Her father was left unloved in an orphanage and look what happened! I was raised by people that did not care and I do not wish it on anyone. If she stays here, she will be loved and cared for. They understand what she is and will not try to change her nature. She won't be a freak. I will stand for this, will you? Because many wouldn't. They would want Voldemort's daughter _dead_.”

The Malfoys tense up again. Draco takes a step back and slightly turns, keeping Delphini further away. “If you two so much as _think_ about hurting her…” He is growling now, wand at the ready. Narcissa’s back straightens and her wand is under Harry’s chin, the lioness all too visible.

“Wait!” Hermione wants to diffuse the whole situation, but finds herself pointing her wand at Lucius Malfoy. He snarls, stepping forward, offering his chest. “Can we all take a step- Aaaaahhhhh”

She crumbles to the floor, bending over. There is searing pain and nothing else for a moment. Her vision is blurry, but she sees Harry down too, holding on to his head.

“Shh. It’s all right. You can let go of them, Delphie. Shhh, I’m here, you’re safe.” The pain stops. Hermione finds herself on all fours, wondering about what just happened. _It was her,_ realization downs upon her.

“I didn’t mean to… that wasn’t a threat. I’m sorry” She can hear Harry gasping for air midsentence.

Delphini starts crying and they both look up. Draco is across the room, cradling a furious baby. They can see her black curls changing, bright purple, red, white, not quite one colour yet and already morphing. Around her there is energy, pure unleashed uncontrollable magic, coming off her. Draco’s eyes are on them. No doubts in that glare. This isn’t the boy in the Astronomy Tower anymore. He will kill for her.

“Draco, wait.” Lucius raises his hands, trying to appease his son. “Just calm her down and we will take this outside.” He is shocked, truly shocked, Hermione realizes. He didn’t know the baby was capable of this. Of defending herself. “You two, out!” They obey, stumbling, their heads afloat.

Draco lets his wand down, as does Narcissa. Lucius opens the door. They take one last look at Delphini and walk out the nursery.

x

They are all in a sitting room. They have discussed the subject for what feels like hours. Draco’s head is pounding. Holding Delphini during that blast of sheer power left him dizzy but he will not relinquish her. He’ll be dead before his cousin leaves. Granger was hard-bound on taking Delphie to another family at the beginning. Potter changed her mind. And after what seemed unending moments, her rational mind had to give in. He and his parents had done their share of convincing. They would teach Delphie to control her magic. They would teach her nothing of the Dark Arts. They would never reveal her true siring.

“If she stays here, with her family, she has a chance of being just herself. If she is taken people will start wondering why and it may raise questions we do not want raised."

"I know. But are you sure? It won't be easy, you know, facing the others. Leaving her to be raised by known Death Eaters…"

"Because life has been so easy so far! Do you remember what it felt like being a cast out? Back in first year, when you were just a know-it-all? I remember feeling like that for very long. She will feel it too if we take her away, Hermione.”

 _Just come around, Granger!_ Draco was about to lose it. Why couldn’t she just see? Did she really need to behave like a Ravenclaw? _Just give in to your Gryffindor impulsive heart, for Merlin’s sake!_

She stands there, quiet, deep in her mind. “So power might be her nature, but nurture will shape her decisions, is that what you mean? That if we allow her family to love her, she will choose Light? Because we can find other families to love her”

“Love her past their prejudice?” His mother has had enough. Good. “They will always be afraid of her. She will be unhappy one of these days, cry her magic out, maybe hurt someone and then she will be raised by a frightened family! They will not love her, they will give in to her every whim in hope she doesn’t destroy the house! Unless you take her,” she is looking at Potter now, and Draco wonders if she has gone crazier than his aunt “she will never remember anything but people being afraid of her. And she is not leaving this house without a fight!”

That does it. Granger’s warm caramel eyes are no longer conflicted. She understands that this must be done. It they are to start anew, they cannot do it with a powerful child removed from where she belongs. That got them all here in the first place.

“Has she been registered at the Ministry? You need immaculate papers for this to work. Hogwarts is a mess right now. I’m guessing the Aurors won’t come until tomorrow, so you have time.”

Harry chuckles at that. “Let's go, Mione. It's settled. When the Ministry comes, she will be a Lestrange and that's final."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for dragging this on. But one huge chapter didn’t feel right, and I needed to do this. I just had to make this a very personal question for both Harry and Hermione.  
> Next up, Aurors come crashing down on Malfoy Manor, seventeen years later.


	8. A Lestrange

The Aurors come the next morning, just like Granger said they would. Draco observes their arrival from behind a window. Potter is with them, but she is not.

They do not storm the house like they did last time. They come inside the hall and inform them that they will be taken to the Ministry for questioning. Narcissa replies that they can’t all leave the house, that there is a child within their walls.

Shacklebolt doesn’t know what to say at that. One of the Aurors, a slender woman, demands proof of this. Draco brings Delphini downstairs, hoping the hostility in the air won’t spark her magic. Granger had owlled them at the crack of dawn, a spell on a parchment. He had used it on his cousin and it seemed to bind her powers just enough to keep her magic contained in her little body.

The big, wide eyes under heavy lids and the black, already unruly curls leave no room for guessing. All of them believe her to be Bellatrix Lestrange’s daughter, and so they assume she is Rodolphus’. No further questions, the fact that none of her parents or ancestors had green eyes escapes them. Draco rests at ease then. He had considered transfiguring her eyes to match her supposed father, but feared she could break that spell and the one binding her magic if she decided to morph her features at some point. She does just that, mimicking Shacklebolt’s skin colour at the sight of him. The audience remembers Tonks for a moment, and the memory of the fiery witch killed by this Metamorphmagus’ mother erases all suspicion there could ever be.

 _Bella always had a way of swopping all the attention in a room._ Narcissa remembers the many times she did just that. Who would think of Mad Witch Lestrange husband when Delphini was before them? _No one,_ her sister keeps her smirk to herself. And no one does.

The same Auror asks if the girl has been registered. They answer that the papers are all there, everything’s in order, but that they were never filed as Bellatrix and Rodolphus feared someone may try to use the child as leverage. They believe that too. _Fools! Like his sister-in-law wouldn’t sacrifice her child for her Master’s superior interests. But only her child, never His._ Lucius is all too aware that these people do not see past Mad Witch Lestrange. And so he brings forth the papers. Her birth certificate, filled by Rodolphus own hand, stating her full name.

Delphini Celaeno Black Lestrange, born on the 28th of July, 1997.

The Aurors raise eyebrows at that. “Two surnames?” a man inquires. Narcissa simply informs him that Bellatrix was too proud to let her family name die. That gets them thinking about Sirius, the last male of the House of Black, another victim of hers, dead without an heir. And so they drop that issue too.

Under her parents’ names, the Malfoys are designated her legal guardians. At the very bottom, both their signatures as witnesses and the Lestrange seal attest the veracity of the certificate. No other possibility ever crosses their minds. How could it? It never crossed the minds of those outside the Inner-Circle.

There is uproar when they discuss whether the Malfoys should be allowed to raise this child. “A Death Eater child, raised by Death Eaters? Are we trying to groom a Dark Lady this time around, Shacklebolt?” is an Auror’s quick answer. Potter does as he said. He stands for it. After half an hour of going nowhere, during which, fortunately, Delphini entertains herself by mimicking the look of everyone in the room, the acting Minister determines Mrs. Malfoy will be questioned at the house, immediately, so that she can stay and care for the child. The men will be taken to the Ministry as soon as they determine who should stay behind, guarding the house, questioning Narcissa and keeping an eye on the baby. Potter volunteers to stay with Delphini, and everyone abides by his will. Four more will stay, one guarding the house, two searching it for Dark artefacts and one more for the interrogatory. As soon as the decision is made, Aurors move towards the Malfoy men. Draco places his cousin in Harry’s arms, and walks, head held high, alongside his father, to the Apparating point.

Narcissa makes sure Delphini is settled in a living room, surrounded by toys, her pearl white blanket on a chair nearby in case she falls asleep. She orders Wabby to check regularly and to bring the baby’s meals to this room and not the nursery. Then she follows the remaining Auror into an adjacent room and answers all his questions for hours.

When she returns to Delphini, she is sleeping peacefully on the floor, head over a stuffed animal, beneath her blanket. Potter looks up to her from the armchair and apologizes, but she flashed her hair and her eyes some twenty different colours when he tried to put her to sleep on the sofa. The Auror leaves to help wrap up the searching and she asks about Hermione.

“With Ron and his family… They lost Fred, yesterday.” He leaves it at that. She nods. They all lost someone. She thanks him for his care, looking into his eyes and silently thanking him for much more. “You saved my life in the Forest. Draco saved my life after that, when he tossed his wand at me. You shouldn’t be thanking me.”

When they are all gone, she lays on the floor, next to Delphie. She levitates a pillow towards her and conjures up a blanket to cover herself. They have succeeded. She is a Lestrange to the world now. She watches the child sleep for a long time before she too succumbs to exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not freak out about Delphini’s date of birth. I am well aware that the Battle Over Little Whinging took place on the 27th and that Bellatrix no way fought while nine months pregnant. This is an AU, Bella simply wasn’t there in this verse. I’ll explain myself later.


	9. Broken

They come home in the late hours of the night.

Their minds have been drilled to the core with questions. When and how but mostly why. They told them when and how, and who, and where. But the why escapes them. Even now.

Lucius remembers a time when he knew why. He was young, and bold, and ambitious. It was right. It was about keeping bloodlines pure and their families powerful. It was about bringing down a Ministry that was forcing its muggle-loving views on much more ancient traditions. It was about standing for a way of living, high above everyone else, standing for a world of unspoken rules that are part of them just like the pure blood in their veins. But by the end it isn't right anymore. It isn't about tradition, it isn't about pure bloodlines. It is about power and someone so obsessed with it that children became threats. And so he does not know why he has been standing on the other side. He cares not for admitting that is only reason was his weakness. Love. For his family. For his life. The thing his Master despised so, and that became his downfall. He could rule the world, but he could not win over a father's love or a mother's care. He did not understand these things and could not fight them because of his ignorance.

Draco remembers growing up in a world of traditions and privileges. A world where his name meant something powerful, not to be messed with, where his name would open doors for him everywhere he went, gather people around him, help him make friends. Sort of. The same name is now a cursed thing. His pure blood no longer matters. He knows exactly why, though. He wanted to make his Father proud. He wanted to keep his Mother safe. And when Delphini came into existence, he wanted to make sure she would have some good in her life, some light. He did not tell the Aurors that. The why concerned him and only him. It was also his weakness, or so his Master said. He cares for others. He loves them. He has a mark on his left forearm, a skull and a snake. They are gone from view now, but he knows they are there. He can feel them there, blaming him for not rising up to meet what was expected of him. His Father was not proud of his son and his Mother was not kept safe. Maybe he can keep that last promise. Maybe he is free to care for someone now, not afraid of being hexed for it. Not afraid of losing them.

They walk up to the living room doorway a few minutes later.

Lucius takes a glance at his sleeping wife. On the floor, next to all that is left of Him. And he wonders if the Dark Lord truly did not know of fatherly love and motherly care. Could He have learned about it from her? From both of them? Why was he here now, then? Beholding an orphaned child and a crumbling world, just like before? No, the mighty Lord Voldemort had that fault until the end. He did not know love, and so he had fallen, taking all of them down.

Draco takes a glance at his sleeping cousin. Not a care in the world, he thinks, and envies her for a second. Then he remembers that little girl is now an orphan. She will never know of her true Father, she will not remember him. She will not remember her Mother either, but they can show her pictures of Bellatrix. Of beautiful, young Bella, already dangerous but no quite so insane. He doesn’t believe there are any pictures of her Father. He will search the house and make sure. The Wizarding War and the Dark Lord will be part of her subjects at Hogwarts, and of absolutely nothing else. He hopes.

Lucius beholds as his son cradles Delphini in his arms, and how she snuggles against him. Draco nods his leave and walks out. They cannot say a single world to each other. They would crumble into pieces right there, and Malfoys do not behave in such manner. Draco will suffer silently; he will take it out on his rooms, probably destroying all that surrounds him only to repair it all, silently, and come downstairs the next morning, pretending there was no noise, pretending nothing happened. His nurture allows him nothing but dignity. Proud and perfect. A Malfoy to a fault.

Once his son is out, Lucius falls to the ground. On his knees, like so many times before his Master. He lets his shoulders shake and his lips tremble. He is a broken Malfoy. A failure. In the morning, he will be together once more, but right now, his façade shatters. He doesn’t know how long it has been when she comes to him. Awaken by his sorrow. Her blonde hair loose, over her shoulder. Tears in her eyes. _She has lost so much,_ he realizes, _and still she comforts me._ She sits down next to him and he lays his head on her lap. They stay there for the rest of the night. Narcissa runs her fingers through his hair. Lucius holds on to her waist like he might drown.

At dawn, the pale light reminds them that Malfoys cannot be seen like this. Not even by their children. Narcissa suggests they go upstairs and retire to their rooms. Lucius holds her tighter, thanking her in gesture, for he can be broken a little while longer, he can let her heal him. He can put her pieces back together too, but not here. They rise.

They slowly disrobe themselves. They do not look at one another. Narcissa puts on her nightgown and climbs in bed. Lucius puts on his silk pajama pants and decides he doesn’t care for the feeling of silk on his chest tonight. He climbs in bed with her. He cares for her heat against his skin. He kisses her lips and he is home, safe, whole. He is a castaway that just escaped the storm and she is his harbour. Her tears drift down his skin too and he holds her in a close embrace. She sobs for the first time since he came home from Azkaban. She is a flower blown in the wind and he is her shelter.


	10. Theirs

A Lestrange, the world believes.

A Riddle, the world would call her.

A Gaunt, her parents would say.

His Heiress, her father said.

Her Master's daughter and so her most prized possession, her mother said.

A Pure-blood child of a Sacred Twenty-Eight Family, the world thinks.

A Black, truthfully. Bastards take on the mothers' maiden names. Heiress to nothing but the horrors of war. Not a prized possession of a mad witch though.

A Half-Blood that holds the last drops of the blood of Black and Gaunt, names she will never carry down the lines of wizarding aristocracy. For she will never know. How her ancestors must twist and turn in their graves. The Purest of families united because a Muggle man under a potion conceived a child with someone thought to be a Squib... Somewhere, someone is having a laugh at that. Dumbledore probably.

She is none of that. She is a star, a pure piece of light in the night sky, graciously making her way amongst the others. She is also something else; it’s there, just beneath the surface, but unknown for now.

She is Delphini, of the Malfoy family. Not exactly one of them, but theirs. Draco knows that now, even if it is the only thing he knows. She is theirs.

He walks upstairs in the dark house. He knows every corridor, every wall and every shadow. But he is afraid. So very afraid. He decides he cannot hold her anymore, not now. So his steps become brisk, stopping only inside the nursery. There is a hint of her crib in the moonlight. He leaves her there, in deep slumber, under the veil, both cloth and magic, that keeps her safe. He steps back and panic invades him. _What have I done?_

He retreats to the door, as quietly as he can. She cannot wake right now. He could not help her, for as much as he cares for her, as much as he loves her, he is afraid.

He runs from her like he is running for his life. He feels like he is running to keep sane. He makes it to his room faster than back when he was five and feared the dark corridors. He fears himself tonight. She is supposed to be Lord Voldemort’s augury, how can that be anything but an augury of destruction? _Maybe she was the augury of His destruction; we were destroyed already by the time she came along. But what if she isn’t? What if she does bring destruction?_

He locks his door, wards it, and silences it. Then, he is a Malfoy unbound, spiralling out of control. His room his alight with magic, and he does not stop until there is nothing left. He is responsible for keeping the Dark Lord’s child under this roof. His Father did not want her and his Mother would let her go the second he said he didn’t want her there. She would have found another family to keep her safe and she would visit, but she would not further torture him with that child’s presence here. Not after witnessing the effect her Father had on him.

He had decided to keep her. Alive. And he thinks he has made a grave mistake. He would never kill her, he could never kill a baby, and he could never kill family. But what if keeping her meant condemning his parents? What if trying to keep that last promise standing meant giving up the remainder of his family? _What have you done?_

He sits in the midst of the remnants of his bedroom. Eyes looking but not seeing, his mind going over every possibility he can think of. The Malfoys have fallen, but how deep will they be when they land? He wants to believe she is just an innocent infant but how can he fool himself? _Delphini’s first response to danger is to hurt people, for crying out loud!_

He decides the house-elf must not see this mess. She could mention all of it to his Mother and that will not do. She could mention a tiny bit of it to his Father and will most definitely not do. He picks up his wand and starts repairing. His clothes stitch back together in the air. His furniture goes back to its place and is in one piece again. He uses the time to organize his mind, to put everything to rights there. _What have you done?_

 _What if Potter is right?_ He shudders at the notion, but it might just be true. Power is her nature, but they can nurture her into something more. _Hurting people is all she could do. She felt danger in the air and defended herself and her family._ In the only way she has been shown. Violence. Pain. Evil. He shudders again at that. They promised they would teach her. He will. He will show her love, and care, and good, and light. He will make sure she learns. He will never deny her darkness, but he will keep her from giving in.

 _Theirs,_ he thinks once more. He knows that. And she will know light. She will be theirs; she is theirs right now, no matter whose she used to be. Whose she will always be, deep down, in her very core. For he will build around that core, not hiding it but steadying it. She may never know of her roots, but she will know her ground.

She is theirs. She will grow under Mother's loving gaze, under Father's proud smirk at her magical abilities, under Draco's overprotective care. Theirs to worry about and theirs to love. Theirs.

 


	11. The Sleeping Dragon

Narcissa wanders the corridors the following night. She cannot believe they are all gone.

Her house is no longer the gloom-covered headquarters of the most dangerous dark wizard that ever existed. There are no more witches and wizards making their presence scarce whenever the Dark Lord comes into a room, falling to their knees either to avoid his curses or screeching under them. He had grown dangerous and cruel, more and more as time went by and his plans failed. She does not miss living in fear.

She misses her sister. Her deranged cackle scared her, her magic ability amazed her, the way she would use it terrified her, but she was family. She will be mourned and missed. She was all that was left from her roots, from that now ancient world in which they had both been raised. A world of blood running pure, of defending your honour with your wand, of knowing Dark Arts and being proud of it. Of the wizarding elite that once ruled almighty and is now gone. Bellatrix Black, made Lestrange, who was only truly His, the warrior star, burned bright and left glowing embers and ashes in her trail.

She left something else too. Like all extinguishing stars do. Someone else. Another light in the firmament, just set ablaze. It could turn out to be the biggest mistake in wizarding history, leaving that child alive. An augury, He believed. She was supposed to bring forth a new world. She has, but not His. Better not dwell on it, lest she turn into the prophesized creature.

The child is no longer the Dark Lord’s and his most faithful and dangerous lieu-tenant’s daughter. She is a Lestrange being raised by her remaining family, the Malfoys, she cannot be anything else. The world would burn the sky away to snuff out her little light.

Narcissa finds herself in front of engraved double doors. She puts her hand against the nursery door, thinking of her husband, who is barred from commanding a door at his own house. Lord Voldemort’s final humiliation.

A supposedly pure-blood baby sleeping in her crib is what she expects. But she is not there.

Her guardian has her.

The blonde in the black silk dressing robe makes her way into another corridor. Finds another room. There are no wards on this door. It isn’t even locked anymore. Not that locking or warding it made any difference. She pushes it ajar and watches from the doorway. A shape is curled up on the mattress, between linen sheets and under a dark blue cover that glistens in the moonlight. Blond hair falls over a pillow, facing away from her. She stands there, taking in the peaceful slumber that now dwells in her house.

Draco is sound asleep. By his side, protected in his embrace, is the little bird. Their precious augurey, with her small chest rising and falling rhythmically, even breaths, perfectly content. Draco’s right hand is over her, as if assuring him of her presence. Keeping her near and safe.

He is no longer her boy. Her fragile child brought to this world with so much pain and having endured so much, _much_ more they thought him able to stand. The bird flew out the nest and came back different. He was pushed out of the nest, really. He fell to the ground. All the way down a tower. And rose again.

He is no longer her boy. Nor her fragile child. He has a choice now. And he has chosen family. Not out of blood but out of love. Delphini is the closest thing to a sibling he has ever had and he is keeping her. She alone makes his ground solid again. Delphini frightens him but still takes his fear of the future away. He is scared of what may come but he feels safety when he holds her. She was his only link to peace before. Not even Narcissa could do that by the end. Now that the war is finally over, Delphini will be his saving grace. She is the reason he tossed is wand at Potter. So that she could have a chance at life away from shadow, out of the darkness. So that she could be a child and not a soldier, not a weapon. So that he could save all of them.

He is no more the sweet feathery thing of his childhood. He bears scars now. His hide is thick. He is no longer afraid of using his power. He will fight for them. He will fight for _her_. The child was is anchor during the war, his safe haven. That little girl is the light that guides him home. His very own polar star. He will fly towards her, spreading his wings wide, so that he can embrace her at the end and shield her from all the danger in the world. Always. Until the very end.

And so before retreating to her den, where her own guardian awaits, Narcissa watches as they sleep.

A little star bird inside a nest of blue and love.

A dragon watching over its treasure.


	12. Piano Music

It is summer again and there’s piano music flowing through Malfoy Manor. It’s been years.

The Dark Lord returned and all music had died.

Now it sounds again, for his daughter.

Draco is splayed over the sofa. Delphini kept him up all night, no doubt. The happy one year old stands on the piano bench, bare feet on a soft crimson cushion, next to Narcissa, holding on to her shoulder to steady herself. She is enthralled by the movements of Narcissa’s fingers over the ivory keys. She does not move, just observes, like she’s learning. When the piece is over, Narcissa holds her niece close. Her green eyes turn grey and she knows whom Delphie longs for. “She loved you very much, darling. But she is gone, I cannot bring her back.” The little girl loses her smile at that. Understanding, she thinks. Her eyes turn that shade of grey every now and then, it’s the steel in there that they know means _Mama_. Narcissa’s heart hurts at the thought of _Bella_.

Sometimes she turns her eyes red too. Less and less often, now. There is a shadow of kindness that baffles them all, again and again. They know whom she wishes for too, but that tie must be left behind. They tell her he is not there and leave it at that. How could they tell her that he loved her too? They don’t believe him capable of ever having. Sometimes she hisses in reply. Narcissa just knows that she means _Father_. But their contract is clear. So they don’t dwell on it, let it slide and hope the little girl will too. They have warded the house; no snake will ever come close. They have decided to ward the little girl too, once she starts venturing outside. No snake will be able to approach her. Granger is perfecting that spell with Draco.

A sonorous crack wins Delphini’s attention. She giggles at Wabby. She likes to pull on her ears when she can reach them. She promptly launches forward from her aunt’s embrace. Narcissa catches her chest on her hand and brings her back, feeling the little girl’s soft curls against her cheek.

“Should Wabby be sending the lunch up, Mistress?”

“Have you asked your Master, Wabby?” The house-elf goes wide eyed, if that’s possible for something with eyes the size of sauce pans. Then she bangs her head on the side of the sofa, startling Draco.

“Wabby is -thump- a bad elf –thump- Wabby must –thump- always –thump- ask –thump- her Master –thump- first”

“Wabby!!” Draco sits up, staring at the house-elf. He looks up to his mother and cousin, looking a bit lost. Delphini is laughing in Narcissa’s arms now. All joy and amusement. Her eyes bright green as grass on a sunny day, her hair going white blond and shining like there is light within it. The happy girl kicks the air as her Aunt tickles her belly. The room seems lighter somehow.

“Wabby, enough!” The elf looks at her mistress, still holding to the side of the sofa.

“What is going on in here?” Lucius joins them, his proud façade giving way to a lighter self he allows only around them. “Wabby, why is lunch not served? Is Delphini’s meal ready at the nursery?” A stern glare goes straight through the shrinking creature.

Before Wabby can return to her self-punishing, Draco orders her out. Delphini is still laughing and he cannot help a concerned look.

“Oh, don’t be like that, Draco. You used to love it when Dobby broke things on its head. Unless they were in your room, that is.” He looks at his Mother in disbelief. No wonder Granger thinks them all deranged. He has half a mind to tell her of this next time they meet just to tease her about bringing S.P.E.W. back.

Lucius takes a look at his wife, sitting before the piano in that perfect, aristocratic way Druella Black instilled in all her daughters, even if Bellatrix never quite gave in. “I thought I heard you play. It’s been so long…” Shadows cross his eyes, taking away some of the frost there. Narcissa stands and walks to him, two long fingers under her husband’s chin so that she can take the shadows away. “Yes, a long time. But no more.” He knows what she means. Cupping her high cheek bones and dragging his thumbs under her eyes, free of the marks many sleepless nights had left there, closing the gap between them. “You alone are my light, my precious flower.” Delphini turns her eyes steel-grey again, recognizing love there and reacting to it.

“You know, there is an under aged witch in this room that is much too young for this.” Draco comes by, picks Delphini up and proceeds to march towards the nursery before he sees something cringe worthy. “I’ll take care of Delphie’s lunch and put her to sleep afterwards. I’ll have my lunch in the nursery too.” _For good measure. I should probably Obliviate myself too,_ he adds in his mind.

Lucius snickers at his son. It’s his turn to be enthralled by the blonde. He kisses her deeply, softly, without a care in the world for the first time. Narcissa answers by curling her arms around his neck and pushing herself flat against him. Lunch will have to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a one-shot side piece that follows that kiss *naughty wink*
> 
> Update 28/08: There is now a second side piece that also follows this chapter, just not immediately In the Wee Hours of the Night


	13. Birthday

Narcissa looks on over the green lawns that surround the manor, keeping the moors at a distance. Presumptuous peacocks are scattered across it, puffing chests and proud tails like they know today is different.

It will not be a grand celebration like they used to host. No, those days of haughty pureblood ladies hanging from the arms of pureblood aristocrats in their best attires are gone. They are dead now, or locked in Azkaban, or living in the most discreet way possible. Theirs is a time gone by. She misses it, dearly. A daughter of the House of Black is raised for society life. A Lady of the House of Malfoy joins the family with the purpose of being a perfect hostess, so that her husband's prestige grows. She even misses the tea parties with other Ministry wives, bothersome as they could be.

But it is all over, the war took it and the peace never brought it back. Today is a simple family reunion, and they are so few now. There will be a small party, a cake with two pink little candles sticking out of the white frosting, some singing, lots of presents, half of them from Draco, and a quiet afternoon.

Delphini is turning two and Narcissa cannot help but remember how it all started. How the very cord of fear was stricken inside her just two years ago.

X

His chamber was off limits to everyone but her. So she had not been bedridden there but in a smaller adjoining blue room. Her temper kept getting the best of her; she loathed being cut off from action these past months. She wanted to have been in Hogwarts for Dumbledore's death, and also to protect her nephew, though she never mentioned it. She wanted to be outside that night, coming down on Potter and his blood traitors friends. _And on their bloodtraitor niece._

But the child and their Master bent her will and so she stayed. A month before, the Dark Lord had actually held her wrist and pulled her close, just enough so that she wouldn't follow Carrow. He had whispered something to her, and that left a dreamy smile on her lips. She was doing that an awful lot those months and Narcissa worried that her mind was drifting deeper into madness, that she was building up a fantasy and that it would be the end of her sanity when it didn't come true. That night it was both of them that kept Bella from fighting. And she was positively dangerous now, ever since her body had decided to join their side. Her back hurting all day, walking becoming torture; so that she stayed in bed or on the chaise long in the parlour. She would gladly take it out on her Master’s enemies. Thankfully, she slept for quite a while too, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Narcissa had thought it wise to keep her wand away from her lest she be hit by an angry hex. Bellatrix did not like it at first, but after wiping out a house-elf for startling her awake, she had worried about pointing her wand at her Lord, and that made it perfectly reasonable in her mind.

Now, in the morning, Narcissa beholds her older sister, thankful that she is not downstairs. Thankful, for the first time, for this pregnancy that keeps her here, watching over Bellatrix, seemingly safer than all the others.

He had been furious upon returning. Potter had escaped between his fingers once more. The Death Eaters downstairs are suffering failure at his wand, she can hear them from her sister's room. Bella remains asleep, undisturbed by the screaming. Not that screams ever bothered her.

Narcissa’s breath hitches. She is suddenly very aware of the absence of sound. And of a presence coming closer. His presence. Her Master in a rage. She looks over to Bella, fearing for her sister. A tiny corner of her mind tells her that He will not harm her. He never did on all these months. No matter how furious, how aggravated, how temperamental, how cruel He has become, he does not hurt her. He walks in a storm and is always peaceful when he leaves. Narcissa has seen it time and time again and still does not believe it.

Bella’s temper never flares after He leaves. She is peaceful too and _that_ is very strange indeed. Bella was never peaceful before Azkaban, and the Dementors took any shred of peace there might be.

But they sooth each other. The child dulls their edges. Narcissa never sees them together, she is always ordered outside. She sees them afterwards and can’t wrap her mind about it. It makes no sense. _Could it be?_ _Nonsense, Narcissa, nonsense. What if he hears your thoughts?_ So she drops them, just in time.

“Out!” He barks the second He is past the doorframe. Narcissa curtsies and leaves. Over her shoulder, she can see Bellatrix awakening, a groan escaping her lips, her left hand flying to her back. She closes the door behind her and feels the wards fly up.

She sits down by the door and tries to keep her mind empty. She is no _Occlumens_ and is very conscious of it just now. But her mind will not stay empty. She thinks of Lucius and of how much he had shielded her before, of how he had kept the Dark at bay for her. Not this time, though. This time she is acutely aware of her Master’s nature.

Something startles her then. She cannot hear what is going on inside, but no wards keeps them from feeling unease when their Master is upset. The door opens and Nagini’s head comes forward. Her yellow eyes examine her and she knows her Lord is summoning her.

Narcissa gasps when she enters the room again. The Dark Lord is holding her sister close. They stand by the window and his hand is on her lower back, applying pressure.

“Get the healer.” He simply states. When she takes a second too long to move, He raises his head from Bella’s curls and glares. She can feel a shock of pain then, a wandless wordless _Cruciatus_ snaps her to rights. Just a hint of the Unforgivable, so that she will move.

It is night again when a piercing cry sounds in the blue room. Bellatrix tosses yet another damp cloth from her forehead and releases Narcissa’s hand, gone blue in her powerful grip. She lunges forward from the pile of pillows at her back and demands her child. _His child._ The healer quickly wraps the crying baby in a soft blanket, afraid of the new mother’s skill with pain, and places the bundle on Bellatrix’s chest. “A girl, Madam. Healthy.” The woman dares not say another word.

Narcissa looks at her sister. The unforgiving, proud, warrior witch of the House of Black sobs overtly, caressing her daughter’s features with her fingertips. There is black hair atop the baby’s head, and just a hint of green in the slits of her eyes. She becomes quiet in her mother’s embrace, not even the tears that land on her little face disturb her.

X

That little girl is on the crib beside her. She will rise in a couple of minutes, turn her eyes steel grey, like she so often does, and then settle for Narcissa’s grey eyes. She remembers her Master’s words, just before she closed the bedroom door that day. How Narcissa had worried at those words, feeling fear being pumped through her veins along with her blood. Delphini had gone paler and her eyes must have shined red. “Well done, Bella”, a hint of a smile on his voice. How she still worries that she might just be much more than a magical child of uncanny abilities.


	14. A Reckless Thing or Two

_August 1999_

Draco might just be the most overprotective cousin of wizarding history. And yet, he is sometimes reckless.

He gets her a pet snake one day, just a couple of weeks after her second birthday. A little black snake that he has made sure will not grow bigger than three feet. He figures he can get it past the wards.

Delphini adores it, hisses at it all day long. Then Narcissa finds out, nearly dies twice (at the finding of the snake coiled around Delphini and then again when she learns of how the said creature came into their household), proceeds to calmly, very calmly, get the snake out of the nursery, and then thinks, seriously thinks, about blasting her own son through a wall at the idiocy. That is the day they decide the snake ward around the Manor’s grounds is not enough. They put a ward on Delphini herself, just in case, and while they’re at it reinforce the one on the grounds.

X

_October 2000_

He gets a tiny broom out of a closet and teaches her how to fly. She is three. He regrets it terribly every single time her feet leave the ground. He nearly dies the day she pulls her first stunt. He thinks he may be disowned, or cursed, perhaps both, the night she flies indoor after a charmed snitch, destroying some haughty ancestor portrait and a window. She does not bother with the glass in her curls, laughs at the other portraits offended glares and misses a curve altogether, slamming into the wall. Draco’s heart misses several beats. He is on the verge of fainting when he reaches her, splayed on the floor next to a broken wand. They both laugh until their lungs hurt while his father contemplates punishment options. For both of them.

Narcissa will later talk him into leaving the bruises and sore limbs to do the punishing, no soothing balms whatsoever. Draco has promised to keep the Quidditch balls safely locked away for now. Delphini has promised to keep flying hours restricted to daylight, good weather and outside. Lucius snorts but complies. Draco laughing again is worth destroying Malfoy Manor. All of it. Twice. But he will never say it. Barely dares thinking it, for his face may show emotion.

X

_March 2001_

“Why is there an altogether unhealthy amount of firewhiskey outside?” Lucius sneers at his son. Draco seems elated, sitting next to Astoria Greengrass in the living room. The young witch has been spending half her days at the Manor. And Draco pops by Greengrass House as frequently too these days.

“I got a new pet for Delphini” his son grins back. Lucius shoulders, his Malfoy perfectly upright at any occasion shoulders, drop. He rubs his forehead, just over his pale eyebrows and sighs. So that is why there is fine malt at his door…

“It better not be an Abraxan…”

“Oh Father, she will love it! She was so sad the other day about the Thestrals that I just had-“

“What do you mean Thestrals? She can see them?”

“Yes. And she was very sad that not everyone could and that most people are afraid of them because of how they look.” Draco is ranting now, trying desperately to think of a rationale that justifies the presence of a gigantic, flying, ill-tempered palomino horse on the Manor grounds.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” his father enunciates every syllable in a way that reminisces of Professor Snape, “Delphini is three years old. She can throw tantrums; it is pretty much her expertise these days, but you are twenty years old and it is your job to tell her no. Now get that creature sent back before she sees it. I would like my house standing by the end of the day and I see very little prospect of it should a magical prodigy of three find a yellow Pegasus and then have it taken back.”

Astoria gives Draco her best I-told-you-so look and a little smile. She offers to help him and he asks that she use the Floo to get a hold of a Magical Menagerie employee, while he calms the Abraxan down with a couple of spells that will make it more traveling-friendly. He takes his sweet time, hoping for his Mother and Delphie to come striding down the path from the gates before the Abraxan is taken. They do not.

X

_November 2001_

“Aunt Cissa!” Delphini’s voice echoes through the house, blasting from her rooms. “Uncle Lucius! Dracoooooooo! There is a black bird on my window!” Her voice is shrill and Draco skips two thirds of the steps, managing to pace himself just before he reaches her.

“Do you mean a black owl, Delphie?” Draco takes a peek inside her playroom “Just let it in then, it probably as a letter for us.”

“Is that an owl? It doesn’t look like one…” She sounds very suspicious of the bird.

“Well, no, no it isn’t. That is not an owl. That is a raven and I have no idea about what it is doing on your windowsill.”

It’s pouring outside, so he takes pity on the bird and lets it inside. Delphini is hiding behind his legs, watching the shiny black bird with the utmost attention. She seems to take a liking to it and it is not long before she is feeding it and proclaiming it her pet. “His name is Darkie!” she says, stomping her right foot in the most unappropriated way “And he is staying! He is mine!” And the entire family just follows suit, thinking of the amount of utterly dangerous creatures she could have chosen as a pet. A raven is not so bad. Delphini particularly likes his ability to eat whatever she dislikes during lunchtime. So Darkie is banned from the house every day at noon, otherwise they will never get Delphini to eat her vegetables.

Darkie likes treats and that makes training him quick work for Delphini. He can soon crow a few words and everyone’s name, which makes for a useful messenger to summon her family to her playroom. He is also the cause behind a very painful broom accident when Delphini has to dodge him in the last minute and ends up letting go of her broom completely. He dives to the floor with her and quickly dashes off to find help, earning his forgiveness from Draco that, despite barely being able to breathe, manages to utter a couple of words about stuffing the damned bird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided I should give you some sort of time references, since there will be quite a lot of skipping now.  
> I’m going out on a limb here. You know how J.K. explained the whole Thestral thing? That you must not only have witnessed death but to truly integrate what it means? I’m assuming Delphini witnessed death during her first months of life, and that she comprehends death because of Bellatrix. Remember all those times Narcissa told her Bella was gone and could not come back? Well… yeah, that’s my rationale for this.


	15. He Likes Me Differently

_July 15 th, 2002_

Delphini put up quite the struggle that morning. Actually, she made a real fuss about wearing the pearl white dress. It was uncharacteristic of her; she always liked to dress up. She likes to feel the room’s gaze on her, on her perfect gestures, on the bounce of her silky, yet unruly, ink black curls.

The real problem came when Narcissa tried to pull her hair into a French braid. The four year old decided she was having none of it and created quite the commotion. Her magic had sparkled off her skin while she demanded her curls be let loose; her eyes going a dangerously familiar shade of red. Narcissa had scolded her about losing control of her magic, since she could tell it was an intimidation attempt, and managed to talk her niece into wearing a silk ribbon over her head, just to keep her curls off her face.

She is now finishing a perfect bow on the left side of Delphini’s head, just above her ear, where a little emerald shines, a perfect twin on the other side, complementing her eye colour. She draws her wand and puts several charms and spells on the attire. She stops only when she is quite sure that Delphie could go fight a dragon and come back looking immaculate. She will soon be behaving like a little tornado outside, chasing other children; she can’t help but behave normally every now and then. _And the peacocks… the children will be on them all day. Lucius is not going to like that, not a bit._

She moves through the corridors, thinking back to the fact that Delphini managed to get her way on the end. Always does. She can see her from the window, hopping about in the rose garden. She likes the smell of roses, and Narcissa makes sure to drop a bit of perfume on her pillow cases, her heart hurting at the memories. Delphini was too young to know, but her body remembers the smell of her Mother. She likes the smell of smoke too, Bella _loved_ it, but Bella never approached her without washing the battle from her skin. She could not bear the thought of besmirching her Master’s child with the filth from His enemies.

Narcissa takes off her dressing robe and the light chemise under it, putting on a long sleeved, flowing dress. She will not wear white today. The dress is deep blue, like the high sea under the sunlight, lending its shade to her grey eyes. She wears diamonds on her ears and round her neck. She pulls her pale blond hair up. After checking the mirror carefully, she determines she is just the right amount of perfect not to outshine the bride. Her eyes find her husband’s reflection in the mirror. His eyes tell her she is magnificent.

“I will head downstairs and make sure everything is ready.”

“Everything is perfect, Narcissa. You never do anything short of perfect.”

She roams the many rooms then, making absolute sure the path to the garden is without a fault. The summer glory of the gardens seeps inside. Lucius went for their son, a nervous mess for several days now, so excited about this that not even Delphini could get his attention for longer than a couple of minutes.

Astoria fits right in with them. Draco has told his mother about the way she calms him down. The way she worried about him in his sixth year at Hogwarts, how he confided in her, sitting in the Common Room in the late hours of the night. She helped him find the right books about repairing magical gateways, without asking questions. She made sure he didn’t skip too many meals and she would gladly hold him so that he could sleep at night. She was the shield keeping madness at bay.

X

She finds Astoria Greengrass, soon to be Malfoy, looking out a window, alone, her mind far away. She gasps quietly upon noticing her presence in the room.

“Mrs. Malfoy… I’m sorry; I was lost in my thoughts just now. Do you need something from me?”

She is a vision in white. The dress runs off her thin shape like a river overflowing, spreading in a blissful puddle against the dark wood of the floor. Her dark brown hair cascading down her back, pulled from her chiselled face. She is not like her older sister, Daphne, although they do resemble each other. There is a frailty to Astoria, a dark softness. Narcissa knows the young witch doesn’t uphold the pure-blood ideals fully, she has a more tolerant view of Muggles, but she was brought up in the same old world as herself and her son, so she trusts the values imbedded in her future daughter-in-law from birth.

“I wanted to be certain everything was right and ready. Where are the others?” Narcissa had led quite a crowd of witches inside earlier. Astoria’s mother and Daphne, yes, but also friends of the bride, giddy with excitement.

“I needed a minute. I asked them to leave. They must be just outside that door.” She nods her head towards the other door, across from the one Narcissa entered. “They have been fussing about me all morning. I told them to go get ready and seized the opportunity to hear myself think.” She chuckles. Her soft brown eyes drift away again; her fingers playing with the engagement ring Draco presented her with last Christmas. Then her eyes light up and her face becomes radiant when she smiles, her eyes locked past Narcissa.

Delphini is looking at her from behind the doorframe. Her small pale hands holding on to it. There is doubt in her eyes, and she looks away, letting her heavy lids and long eyelashes hide her feelings.

“Come inside if you wish, Delphini.” Narcissa notices how Astoria won’t use her nickname just now, while acknowledging the child status in the house. Delphini is slowly being won over and takes a couple of steps inside. “You look beautiful. You will be the most gorgeous girl out there, will you not?” The honest smile never leaves Astoria as she talks. Delphini straightens up at the compliment, but immediately lowers her head as trouble crosses her eyes again.

“But you will be the prettiest lady…” she whispers. All the commotion about getting dressed suddenly makes sense for Narcissa. Delphini is afraid, for the first time in her life probably. _And she makes herself difficult to handle when she is unsure. Just like Bellatrix used to_ , she thinks; her heart wincing a bit from the unexpected pain.

Astoria approaches Delphini at that, lowering herself to stand about as tall as the child. She raises her chin and wipes a tiny translucent tear about to drop from the girl’s sad eyes. “He doesn’t like me better, you know? He likes me differently, but he loves you so very, very much Delphini. He lights up when he talks of you. You make him laugh and no one else can do that. _I_ like you very much too, I love you already, and I will never take your place in his heart. His heart is very big, there is plenty of room for you, and I’ll just have a little nook. Is that alright?”

And just like that, Narcissa is absolutely sure Astoria belongs with them. With Draco. She is the true balm to his wounds. Delphini smiles back, her eyes going steel-grey for a second and then shining green like the garden outside.

X

Draco is quite sure is heart is about to burst from pure joy. Delphini walks down the aisle, dropping soft colourful petals on her path, from a little basket that holds the wedding rings in a pillow at the bottom. A few steps behind comes Astoria, on her Father’s arm, clad in white, a sight of perfection. He smiles at both of them in turn, and caresses Delphini’s curls when she passes him. His world is finally back on its axis. Everything is right. He can love now. He can care.


	16. And This is a Good Thing?

_Malfoy Manor, March 2003_

Draco has been in the clouds for days, she thinks. He won't listen to sentences longer than five words, won't cheer for her when she flies, won't laugh when she scares the peacocks... He only pays attention to Astoria, really. And Delphini has had enough. She is bored and boredom calls for something big.

She has everything planned for that evening. She is sitting by the fire, with the Tales of Beedle the Bard on her legs, flipping through the pages absent minded. Darkie is perked up on the back of her chair, paying close attention to the slow moving pictures. Dinner must be almost ready. She will be told to run ahead and wash her hands; and that makes for the perfect opportunity. She makes a mental note to stop Wabby from hurting herself too much, she is going to highjack the elf's work after all.

"Delphini, young ladies do not swing their feet." Her Aunt's voice brings her back to reality.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop." She gives Aunt Cissa a little smirk. "I won't do it again." She adds, when Uncle Lucius takes a peek from behind the _Prophet_ , looking at her from the top of his nose, in that very Malfoy way. He resumes his reading and Narcissa invites her to her side on the sofa. She jumps down from her chair and rushes to kneel on the cushion, beside her.

"Would you like to practice your scales?" She is teaching her to play the piano. Delphini nods. "Well then, show me. Play on my hands first and then we'll practice for a little while after dinner." She extends her palms towards her and Delphini sets her fingers on hers. "Even and light, Delphie. Like feathers remember?"

She practices for a few minutes. Narcissa corrects her movements, tells her when she is hitting too hard.

Draco walks in, Astoria on his left arm. They have their own wing in the manor, but like to join them for dinner. Delphini looks up and is immediately put off by the silly loving look on Draco's face. Astoria has his full attention and seems to be trying to talk him out of something. They giggle like school children after a successful prank. _Humpf. Just wait. We'll see if Toria still has your attention after I'm done._

"You two are not alone in this room, you know?" Her Uncle is setting them back to rights. "Good evening wouldn't be lacking in manners."

Draco apologises. Astoria greets them, blushing. Narcissa eyes them with a knowing look and then stares at her son, square in the eye.

"Is there something we should know? Astoria?" She shifts her grey gaze to her daughter-in-law. Delphini doesn't have a clue about what is going on and doesn't like it, at all. She may be only five, but being left out of the loop is seriously aggravating.

Astoria bites her lip, shaking her head at Draco, but he has the most idiotic over-the-moon-happy smile ever seen on a Malfoy. He embraces Astoria, who rolls her eyes and utters a sort of agreement under her breath. Draco laughs, kisses her cheek and plants both his hands on her flat belly.

"Draco..." Aunt Narcissa's eyes shine with tears she will not let run and her hands fly to her mouth. Uncle Lucius has a smug smirk on his face as he folds the newspaper and rises, approaching the happy couple.

"I'm sure. But it _is_ way too soon to go about telling everyone." Astoria says, giving her husband a half-felt glare. “I’m only about two months…” She trails off at that and Delphini can tell there is something making her sad. The same shadows cross her Aunt’s eyes at that, but she straightens her back and reassures Astoria that all will be well.

Uncle Lucius embraces Draco, and they _never_ hug. Delphini’s mind is racing, her plan completely forgotten. She walks up to the adults, looks at them in the most composedly displeased way she can manage and requires a justification for all this maudlin nonsense with her emerald eyes wide open.

Draco finally pays attention to her at that. He picks her up; she _almost_ tells him that she is no longer a baby, and then he kisses her forehead and smiles. “It means we are having a baby, Delphie, Astoria and I. You’ll have a little cousin!”

“And that is a good thing?” They all laugh at that, but Delphini doesn’t like the idea of another child in her house. _A baby? What for? You have me._ She remembers meeting a baby, one of Draco’s friends had a baby boy last year. She had taken a glimpse at a tiny face amidst blanket folds, held by a red-haired woman. He had cried, a lot, very loudly, and she could not understand, for the life of her, why they were all so happy about such a creature.

X

The following months make her regret not going through with her plan that night. Only Uncle Lucius pays her attention these days. And that means inviting her to read beside him, or asking her something about her day during meal times.

Astoria had become paler by the day about a month after the big announcement. She looks very weak now. Her belly is much bigger but her arms are thin, her face gaunt, deep dark shadows under her eyes. Draco spends almost all his time beside her. She is always resting somewhere in the house. He carries her in his arms and takes her to a different room every couple of days. It is warm now, so she will sometimes find them both out in the gardens, under the sun, the summer lending some colour to Astoria’s skin.

She thought, several times actually, about planning something else, but her Aunt is so worried and absent minded that something very serious must be happening. This baby business was supposed to be good, but so far it seems like quite the grim thing. But Draco is staring at a sleeping Astoria, and she looks tired even when she sleeps. He notices her presence by the door and opens his arms to her. She runs to his lap and cuddles there.

“I’m sorry Delphini. I haven’t paid you much attention, have I?” He is talking to her, but his mind is not quite there. “How about a little Quidditch? I’ll ask Mother to watch Astoria for a while, and see if you can take a quaffle past me, eh?”

“I’ll get the brooms!” She rushes inside, happy as she can be, running across the manor. Her world is back in its proper course.

X

_August 7 th, 2003_

She wakes up in the middle of the night. Something feels _off_. She hops out of bed, Darkie complains about the light she lets in the room when she opens the door. It’s late, she knows that, but there are lights downstairs in the hallway. She patters down the dark wood steps and follows the path of candles. ‘ _Toria!_ She thinks, once she figures it leads to Draco and Astoria’s wing. She runs into Wabby past a corner. The elf looks relieved.

“What is going on, Wabby? Is everyone up?”

“Yes, little mistress, Master and Mistress be up, yes. Young Master Draco too. Wabby be helping, Wabby must go now.” She smiles at Delphini and, with a loud crack; she is gone to fetch something.

It’s only then that Delphini focus on the sounds. There is conversation coming from behind a door, cheerful. There is something else too. Crying? She pushes the door open and finds Uncle Lucius talking to two women she doesn’t know. Aunt Narcissa comes to them, from the door across the living room. _Draco’s bedroom_ , she realizes. Narcissa smiles at her and beckons her forward. With her delicate hand on her back, she leads Delphini into the bedroom.

The crying has stopped. The room is much darker, lit by moonlight mostly. Astoria is asleep on the bed, but that’s not new. She has been bedbound for the last couple of weeks. There is something new, however. _Someone. The baby._ She walks up to Draco, sitting in an armchair beside the bed, holding a bundle close to his chest.

“Would you like to meet your cousin, Delphie?” There are tears in his eyes, running silently down his cheeks, and his voice is shaking. Happy tears though, his eyes glistening. “This is Scorpius.” There is a baby boy in his arms, no hair, not even eyebrows, on his tiny, somewhat reddish face.

“He is so small…” She whispers. Draco lets a sob escape his lips. “He was a bit early, but he’ll grow Delphie. He will grow.” She feels the happiness around Draco, and she thinks that perhaps, just maybe, this baby business can be a good thing after all.


	17. So Much Like Her

_October 2003_

She fails to see the atraction of a baby. It cries, it nurses, it soils itself. Done. Nothing else. Oh, one more thing: it takes Draco away from her. She quickly decides there is no good to this baby business and that Scorpius will forever be _it_ in her mind.

Astoria notices her lack of interest first. Once the novelty of the whole situation is gone, Delphie eschews from their chambers. She almost always responds "No, thank you" in that very clear voice of hers when she is invited to go see her little cousin. Astoria knew this was a very serious possibility, but believed Delphini would come around about the little white blond child, so different from her.

Delphini holds a grudge against the child for that too. She is so obviously different from her family, with her black mane of unruly curls and her wide heavy-lidded eyes of the deepest green. They are all blond statues of perfection, with their pale eyes that hold a superiority only good-breeding could accomplish. Even Toria, with her dark brown hair and soft brown eyes, has the regal poise of the Malfoys, though not the ice. Delphini has some poise, yes, she is very aware of the looks of approval she gets when she walks demurely about the house. But not the Malfoy poise. There is something different to her, she only knows that she dislikes the difference now. Her eyes are not ice, she is not cold and distant like them. She is all fire and passion, though contained, but ever present. She is pale like them, but her colours are all wrong. She looks all wrong amidst them. And Scorpius looks so right it's painful.

Narcissa sees it too. Her niece's unwillingness towards the new arrival. She notices somethig else also. Delphie is now capable of much more control over her Metamorphmagus abilities and has taken to changing her looks. She does it in secret at first, and Narcissa only catches glimpses of black curls taking over pale blonde silk straight hair, eyes of ice blue and grey subsiding to emmerald-like shine. Then she starts doing it around them, when they sit together in the evenings, when it's only the two of them and the piano.

The day Astoria talks to Narcissa about it, after a blonde Delphini of grey eyes leaves the room where she still rests with the precious baby in her arms, they decide they must do something. They cannot risk one of the girls furies, not with all that unbound magic within her small frame. Not around the family.

Narcissa reassures her daughter-in-law. She will talk to Delphini, make sure she knows she is loved. That she is not being replaced. _We cannot have another child feeling unloved. We promised she would be different._ But the fear does not leave her.

X

Narcissa approaches Delphini in her playroom. She has a book on her lap but her attention is on something beyond the window. She is so distracted that Narcissa has a chance, for the first time, of taking in her niece's Malfoy-like persona from the reflection on the glass panels. Her hair is long, white blonde and straight now. She has made her eyes ice blue, but not unkind, like Draco's. Her features seem a little different but she cannot put her finger on it. She sighs at the task before her, and Delphini notices her presence then. Her eyes go scarlet for the tinniest second, her fury at being caught by surprise surfacing. _It's always Him in her when she is angry_ , and she shudders at the thought.

The moment she touches the subject of Scorpius, Delphini breaks out in tears. Her six years of age too clearly visible all of a sudden. She sobs incontrolably for a long while and Narcissa holds her as tight and close as she possibly can, humming a lullaby in her ear until the sobs subside. The little girl raises her head to her again and she is blond and blue eyed again.

"Would he like me better if I looked like him? Because I can do that, forever." She is deeply afraid she does not fit, that she is no longer wanted.

And Narcissa's heart breaks at how much like Bellatrix she can be, despite not remembering her, barely even knowing her. She would leave anything behind to feel loved, just like her Mother had. She loves with true passion, wholly, completely, careless of herself. _Just like Bella._ And it's her turn to cry, quietly, for her sister that loved too much, too entirely, that put so much of herself into all things she loved that her daughter learned to do it in the short months they shared. She talks through the tears. She tells Delphini that they love her exactly like she is, that Draco still loves her, above all things she believes, and that the child he has fathered will never take her place. She is the reason he is together, the reason he survived the war and came out the other end sane. She tells Delphini of her own family, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, of the magical blue blood that runs in her veins, saying nothing of the pure-blood obsession that runs there too. Tells her of how much she looks like her Mother, of how she loved her, of how they all love her, of how proud they are that she walks and talks like a Black. And Delphini's heart feels a little less heavier, a little higher in her chest, and she brings back her curls and her green eyes. And she stays in Narcissa's arms for a long time, until night has fallen and Lucius comes looking for them.

X

Once Narcissa tells her of that afternoon, Astoria decides to deploy their best weapon. They need to make ammends, they need Delphini to feel safe again. She has a right to grow up happy and belonging. She talks to Draco one evening. He is so enthraled by their child that she has to actively remove little Scorpius from his arms and lay him in his crib so that he will listen. She warns him of what may come, tells him that he must give Delphini some attention too, that she and his child are safe and going no where now. That he needs to stop worrying so much about them and care for her too. She tells him of what she has been doing with her looks and of how worried the little girl is that he doesn't like her anymore, that she has been replaced.

Reality takes a minute to sink into him. He thinks back to the few weeks since Scorpius birth and realizes he has spent almost no time with Delphie. Most of their time together had been in his room, with Astoria and Scorpius. There is a pang in his chest at that. He is failing her, failing his last standing promise. He buries his head in his hands and shakes his head. _What am I doing? I promised her I would take care of her._ He had promised himself that he would always be her guardian. He is the reason she is part of the family and he will make sure she always feels like she belongs. Astoria reassures him, she fixes the dragon's wounds so that he can use his wings to embrace his treasure again, the little bird that feels like it's been dropped from the nest.

X

He starts slowly. He apologises for spending so little time with her. He joins her again on the skies, teaching her reckless moves that make Narcissa wince. He tells her how much he likes to mess with her curls even though she loathes it. He looks for her everyday, even if he can only spare a few minutes. He makes the most of those minutes, makes her giggle, and laugh. He tells her that her eyes are like no others, and that he likes how they stand out against her pale skin and dark hair. He teaches her to play wizarding chess (a tiny corner of his mind worries at her glee over the fighting shattering pieces) and takes a tea party to a whole new level. She feels loved again, the shadows of ill-fitting gone.

Draco eventualy finds a way to make her like "the snotty creature". He invites her to come along sometimes. Others, he wanders in the living room with Scorpius on his arms and focuses his attention on her, acting like he just happens to be holding a baby. Delphini can see what he is doing, but cannot fight how much she likes to be with him, and so endures the presence of the little intruder until she can no longer see him like _it_ or _snotty creature_ or _intruder_. She starts thinking _Scorpius_ and _family_ and _cousin_. She finds him much easier to like once he starts responding to her, to giggle when she tickles his tiny chompy feet, to laugh overtly whenever Wabby decides to punish herself and they can laugh together.

Narcissa notices she has stopped morphing her features into a Malfoy-like appearance. Astoria finds the three of them asleep in the big fluffy armchair in the nursery every now and then. Draco with his legs streched, feet on a cushioned stool, Scorpius nuzzled against him, in the crook of his arm, and Delphini on his lap, arms around him and her head on his chest.


	18. Peacocks

_August 2004_

"Delphini Black Lestrange!" Lucius Malfoy voice ressounds, a hint of rage in it.

 _Not so bad,_ she thinks, _Uncle Lucius didn't use my middle name..._ She has been dreading this all morning."What did you do to the peacock?" He keeps two fingers at the bridge of his nose and she can see his nostrils flaring. He is trying to keep is composure, but his precious white peacocks are off limits even to her. Astoria glances at her, an inquisitive look in her face and her left hand on Scorpius head, fearing he will wake.

"It didn't do as I said." As haughty as a seven year old can be. She says nothing further, as if that will suffice.

Her exasperated uncle does not agree.

"Young lady, explain yourself this moment!" He is dangerously close to mid-naming his niece. "I swear I'll keep you inside and away from books for the whole summer. What happened to the peacock?"

"I wanted it to show its tail. It didn't. I was mad at it and I couldn't help myself..." Lucius sights. Another magical incident then. "It just happened, Uncle, I was angry and it just... blew up, really." She looks down at her shoes. He sees a small white feather lost in her mane of curls and that is all he needs. She would never be so careless as to forget to eliminate all evidence had she done it on purpose. She is as Slytherin as they come.

"It's allright, Delphini. Just stop trying to order the peacocks around. They are pretty birds, but they are not smart enough for you to train. Stick to the raven, will you?"

Her green eyes glance up in a silent apology. Astoria sees her chance and suggests "I'm taking Scorpius upstairs." He is drowsy but awake in her arms "Come along. I'll read for you both from Fantastic Beasts." She turns to her and smiles a quiet thank you. Astoria remembers all to well her magical mishappens. They weren't quite so destructive, but she always felt bad afterwards.

Lucius stares at them both while they leave. Narcissa is suddenly at his side, worry in her eyes. A soothing hand on his shoulder then and a quick remark. "She is Bella's..."

 _Indeed,_ he thinks, "But that makes three peacocks in the last year, Cissa. I have to ward them from her now!" She chuckles and he is not amused. Realizing her husband's annoyance, she kisses his cheek and tells him of the memory that made her laugh.

"Bella was given a kitten once. Well, more than once, but I only remember the last one. She was ten and she was supposed to take it to Hogwarts as her familiar. Except that the poor kitten didn't do as she said and was blasted across our playroom, not quite so accidentally..." There is a wicked little smirk in the corner of her mouth.

 _A Black at heart, still,_ he thinks. "Was it found dead later?"

"No. Remember my familiar from Hogwarts? She was a hand-me-down. More of a toss-me-down, really."

He kisses her, that perfect wife of him, wicked but magnificently caring. "Well, let’s not get her a cat then. Since this befalls your family's crazed blood, you are helping me ward the peacocks. Right now, before Delphini makes another mess of white feathers in the garden."

X

A few months later there is a big box with a bow on top waiting for Delphini in her playroom. She lifts the lid and takes a peek. There are two big glistening eyes at the bottom. They hiss at her. She decides she likes whatever creature it is already.

Half an hour later, Narcissa decides her niece has been too quiet for too long and slowly pushes the door to the playroom open. The dark haired child is sitting on the floor, a happy grin on her face. There is a huge grey cat chasing one of Delphie’s toys. She is the one making it move, Narcissa realizes. She worries, quite a lot, that the Ministry will come after her one of these days. But she is proud. And then she notices the huge pointy ears atop the cat’s head, and its long tail with a tuft of hair at the end. _Oh, Morgana help us!_

She quickly makes it to her son’s wing.

“Draco!” He looks over his shoulder, holding Scorpius in his arms, and Narcissa holds back a little at the sight. “What were you thinking? A Kneazle, Draco?”

“Oh Mother, don’t fret. She will be fine, she likes it already, and she had a huge smile when she came in to thank us.”

“Us? Astoria is in on this?” Narcissa cannot believe her ears. Not taking their horror of all things Muggle seriously wasn’t bad enough; she is actually siding with Draco on spoiling the prodigious little witch.

“Well, your son can be rather charming.” Astoria giggles from the settee in the corner, as Draco hands her their son. “And the Kneazle was quite beautiful. It will protect Delphini too.”

“You two are taking full responsibility for this. If something happens, it’s on you. Including Darkie getting eaten! Draco, you break the news to your Father when he arrives.” She turns on her feet and leaves the room, thinking of ways to appease her husband.

Lucius nearly flips over on the spot when the Kneazle crosses his path the minute he walks in the living room, a shrieking girl following it “Give it back! Put it down! STOP!”

The look on his son’s face tells him everything he needs to know. He glares at him.

“Should I expect a dragon on our lawn for her birthday, then?”

“Well I’m her dragon. She doesn’t need another one.” Draco sort of expects a _Cruciatus_ to come flying his way at that, but he just couldn’t keep that pun inside. His father huffs heavily, glares at him from atop his nose and decides for leaving the room. Not before warning him though.

“If one of the peacocks so much as drops a feather because of _that_ …”


	19. An Ease about Her

_Christmas 2004_

The cousins' relationship improves steadily. Delphini doesn't allow her magic to lash out when Scorpius uses her hair as leverage in order to stand, although she glares at him in a very big sister way. She runs around the manor with him, picking him off the floor when he stumbles. She sneaks him outside to annoy the peacocks in her stead (she can't even approach them without being jolted back by magic). The day the Kneazle rubs against the boy, Delphini is certain they will get along. So is the family.

They realize just what they may be dealing with when they find them both in compromising situations. Asleep in the pantry, clearly ransacked for anything with a hint of sugar. Whispering atop the stairs, conspiring against the house-elf no doubt. Sneaking in and out of rooms. Delphini frantically trying to keep her cousin from painting yet another book she left open in the library and then hiding it so that no one gets punished. They always are.

Then Astoria finds Delphini trying to teach a not even three year old Scorpius to fly on her first broom, the same Draco used to teach her, and secretly starts wishing for the day Delphini turns eleven. She had made Draco promise her that he would not teach Scorpius to fly before the age of five, completely forgetting that Delphini could decide to take on that responsibility.

Draco now has two children to spoil rotten. And the eldest child knows exactly how to get what she wants from him. Her little smirk and the glint in her eyes do a wonderful job of it. It's everyone else's job to keep some semblance of rules and limits in place. Half the nights, Astoria or Narcissa have to remember Draco to let the children go to sleep and to stop exciting them with his elaborate bedtime stories.

They decide for an intervention the day Draco comes back from Diagon Alley having bought what seems to be half the street's worth of toys, sweets, and pretty clothes.

"Draco," Lucius starts, when Scorpius is asleep after lunch and Delphini is with her tutor, "remember that conversation we had about you being twenty and it being your responsibility to say no?"

It's not an easy subject, but they eventually get him to say he will refrain himself. A present each month, plus Christmas and birthdays. He manages to add "accomplishment gifts" to the deal and Astoria chuckles, wondering how many "accomplishments" Draco will come up with.

The very next day, Delphini receives a gift "Because of her impeccable handwriting" Draco says. Because he wanted to see her flying about in a new wool green cloak, the rest of them know.

X

They have dreaded this moment for years. But Draco was adamant about the subject. Moreover, he is right.

"She needs friends. It can't be just her and Scorpius. She can't have other children her age around only every now and then. She must be allowed friends. She needs that chance at normality. Before."

"There is no before, Draco." Lucius locks eyes with his son. "She will never know. She is a Lestrange and that is final."

"We are sworn to never telling her. But the rest of the world is not. If ever the connection should be made... she needs bridges before that storm, Father. Because the world will leave her alone in her island and burn any chance of a bridge for her. Our family is not enough."

The rest is left unsaid. There is a lingering thought in all their minds. A cold finger running down their spines, jabbing between their ribs. _What if she doesn't make friends? What if she starts gathering people but not friends?_ The terror is there, they can all feel it and a knife could cut through it.

"She already knows some kids from our circle."

Ever so slowly, old connections had come about again. There were small dinner parties, discreet birthdays, and joyous but small weddings. Every time, the memory of absent people lingered, but it felt somehow better to be together again. Their small society finding its way again, if not its footing.

"We will have a Christmas gathering like we used to. It will just start earlier, we'll ask for the children to come and let them play all afternoon. Like I used to."

X

And so they come. The guests start arriving around three. There will be plenty of time for the children to play.

Narcissa is the ever perfect hostess, her hand sitting peacefully on her husband's arm. Talking away the hours with other couples. Witches in gorgeous dresses smiling by the side of wizards in magnificent robes, under bright lights inside and against the shine of snow beyond the windows. Where a group of children squeal, laugh and cheer their way through a snowball battle with no quarter.

The Malfoys keep looking over, discreetly. Delphini is amongst the others, covered in snow, giggling like she is supposed to, her poise forgotten. She is fast, seems to dodge on instinct, her body simply knows where to go, how to move. There is an ease about her, like she was made for battle. The Malfoys keep their smiles, but a little voice reminds them that, although her grace of movement is the same her Mother had, seeing it on an eight year old is unnerving. Because her Father had it too. Her parents moved like dancers even in the heat of the most vicious fights. So they worry.

Draco swallows at the uncanny resemblance of black curls dancing in the wind, following effortless and subtle moves. But he will keep his promise. He will teach her about right and wrong. In time, he will tell her about the war. And then he will let her choose. _I cannot fail her too. I will not fail my little bird. She will not be an augurey of doom and disgrace. She will be living, breathing proof that blood does not define a person._

Lucius is worried, terribly so. _It's like seeing a miniature of Bella._ There is no viciousness, no madness, no hunger for destruction and pain. Not that it sooths him. Because it's is also like seeing the Dark Lord and the mere thought of Him rattles Lucius to the core. _I let her stay. If anything should happen, it will be my fault. Again. It will be my family that pays. Again._

But the room erupts in laugher and drives his thoughts off rail. Something the children did. They are mostly on the ground now, and careless crystal clear little laughs fill the air in a manner that is sure to lead to hiccoughs. A precarious fort of snow came down and its occupants are under heavy fire. Delphini is on the fallen side.

_Helping the others stand._

_Making sure they are not hurt._

And that is nothing like her parents. Their shadows retreat from their minds.

Astoria hugs her child closer to her chest and feels Draco's fingers pulling her closer, into his arms, embracing her in public in a way she is quite sure no Malfoy has ever held his wife. She can hear Narcissa laughing, and Lucius has a hint of a smile on his face.

Delphini talks, and laughs, and plays. And none of her weariness of new people comes forward. There is an ease about her, the others feel it too. She is happy and approachable. Soon, she has paired up with a girl of long black tresses and they take charge, mercilessly pursuing the others, stuffing snow down each other’s collars. Even though she is furious at the trickling freezing water down her back, her eyes never change, her magic never sparks.

When called back inside, for the elves to bath and cloth properly for the evening, the two girls keep together. They come down together, giggling in a way that means mischief. Her composure is back in place, but it is not cold and distant. It's warm, polite, and welcoming. She introduces the girl to Draco and at that they know.

She has a friend.


	20. A Beetle on the Ice Cream

_March 2005_

Narcissa feels calm walking down Diagon Alley for the first time in years. The little girl holding her hand is basically being dragged along at a mellow pace, with her eyes going wide while she takes in everything in the bustling street. She is mildly surprised she hasn't asked for anything yet. But then again, that is why she is here with her, instead of Draco.

Delphini doesn't even notice the stares she gets, the small gasps escaping strangers' lips at the sight of her. She doesn't come out often. She does not know why exactly, but her family tells her it's for her protection and she doesn't fight it. She does not feel endangered here, but there is so much going on she almost wishes for the quiet of the Manor and the hoppy crows of Darkie instead.

Turning a corner, Narcissa's heart misses a beat and dives to the floor. She has seen Bella further ahead. _No, not Bella. Bella is gone._ Her heart restarts from the sheer pain of that realization. _Andy..._

Her mind goes wild with possibilities. She is on the verge of calling, on the very verge of rushing towards her only remaining sister, when she thinks of her niece. Andromeda may not know about her, but she will have no doubts the second she lays her eyes on her curls. _She may remember whose eyes she has too... She knew Him, not that she was in his presence much._

In her chest lives a coil, twisting and burning. Hurting. It hurts so very much. But certain risks are not to be taken. Andromeda lost too many people. To them. Andromeda lost her daughter to her own sister and is raising a little boy in her stead. The sight of Delphini will bring all of it to the front of her mind and Narcissa dares not think of what it could bring forth. They have been apart for so long. They are the only Blacks left now.

_And we will never share a room again._

Her niece is oblivious to her turmoil. The girl is delighted. She has never been amidst so many people. Amidst so much magic. _Not that she can remember anyway._ Although she does seem at ease, unlike most children on their first outings. _She is older than most children._ It is as if her body remembers feeling safe on those first months of existence, enveloped in pure, dark magic, like an ethereal beast ready to pounce, maim and shred any threat that came her way.

She decides that the street is too exposed now. Witches and wizards keep looking, their breaths hitching in recognition of those features. Someone may gasp too close to Andromeda, someone may say something that makes her head turn.

"Our errands are done. Would you like to go for some ice cream?"

"Yes!" Delphini is nodding and flashing the immense smile that lights up her eyes. "Can I have all the flavours?"

"No..." Narcissa chuckles, "but you may choose two and a table for us."

"Can we take some ice cream home for Vicious Mist?" The Kneazle had finally been given a name, after dissuading Delphie from a hundred ridiculous names, including Sparky, Fluffy and the sorts. An attempt on Darkie's life and a comparison of the creature's uncanny silent approaches to the early morning cold mist that surrounds the mansion had settled it.

"Kneazles do not eat ice cream. Now go find a table."

Something catches Delphini's attention, she can tell. She lifts her eyes from the ice cream and demurely turns her head towards the window. Her eyebrows come a little bit closer on her forehead and there is a very much Bella's twitch on the corner of her mouth. For a second, Narcissa catches it too. But it is gone too soon for her to recognize. Green, she thinks. _Blonde?_ Her eyebrows climb slightly on her own forehead and come down again as she takes another spoon.

People are still looking. Not staring. They wouldn't dare. Just looking. They know Narcissa Malfoy. They know her family has been forgiven and allowed freedom at the end of the war. But they also know there is only one son, Draco, who has his own son, Scorpius. The few close friends they managed to keep were sworn to secrecy about this child. Allowing them freedom was one thing. Allowing them a child to raise, a Death Eater's child at that, was something else altogether. Only a few people know of Delphini's existence. And only six people know the truth behind the girl's eyes.

She had hoped to remain unnoticed. She had hoped _Delphini_ would remain unnoticed. She had hoped for something different and only now does she see the error in her reasoning. How could they ever forget Bellatrix Lestrange's face? The deranged cackle of Mad Witch Lestrange? No matter the number of years gone by, she had left behind too large a shadow, too many nightmares, too many orphans, too much devotion to Her Master, too many scars. She had left something brighter too, but these people know nothing of her sister's soul. And so they fear. And so Narcissa fears. Staying is not an option anymore.

But she cannot force herself to cut Delphini's happiness short. To leave now and let their sundaes to melt along with her hopes.

"Aunt Cissa? Where did you go?"

Her daze is broken by a sweet voice. Not a little girl's voice. The voice of a keen intelligence behind wondering eyes, of someone used to observe and gather information. _Was He like this? Was He ever a child?_

"Oh, I was just remembering coming here as a child myself." A lie. And they both know it.

"What is wrong with us? Why are people looking at us?"

Her aunt's breath becomes shallow; she can see her throat moving faster. And then she lies again. Not exactly. A half-truth.

"You are a very pretty child. And you look like your mother so much. Many people knew her, you just remind them of her. Bella had that effect on people. She was always memorable."

Delphini notices a tiny green spot in her peripheral. She waves her right hand in an attempt to get rid of it and a beetle lands squarely on her sundae.

Delphini's magic lashes out in her horror and the beetle sounds like it is frying. The sundae melts completely.

"Aunt Cissa, make it leave! It's disgusting!"

Narcissa decides that is her cue. Calming her niece, she talks the outraged girl into leaving. Sooths her with a promise of taking some ice cream home. "For Draco too, yes. And Scorpius, and Toria and Uncle Lucius, yes. Ice cream for everyone." They leave beneath the looks of strangers. There is suspicion in their eyes. And some wonder at the graceful creatures walking down the street, at the shiny black curls under a pale hand of long fingers.

The world is not the same anymore. But their blood is still different. Somewhat higher. They carry themselves not in arrogance but in simple superiority. It's there, for all to see. Perfect Malfoy demeanour. Pure Black pride.

Narcissa puts every fibre of her into the effort to _not_ jump off the floor at the glimpse of a flash. Every muscle of her body wants to shield Delphini behind her and draw her wand. She just barely manages to control her protective instinct, forcing her face to keep an ivory mask of composure while her eyes look for the source of that flash. Her mind wants to unleash every single dark spell, curse and hex she ever learned, but she forces her hands to keep still and her mind into searching the opposing side of the street.

A family proud of a Quidditch player. That is all there is when a second flash bursts in the air. A family celebrating the purchase of a new broom, just outside Quality Quidditch Supplies. Narcissa fights her body into regaining its calm, desperately trying to keep Delphini out of the loop.

Delphini sees them, slightly despises them for it. Family celebrations are family matters to be held at home, not _there_. Then she wonders if that is all there is to it. Her Aunt feels weirdly rigid behind her. She says nothing, so no question leaves her lips. _It is appalling behaviour, after all._

X

They are just outside the Manor. Delphini has been quiet in contemplation. Narcissa has been quiet in grievance. Her mistake now made clear.

"Should I change my appearance? When we go out the next time?"

Narcissa lets a deep breath slow her mind. _Next time... can we allow such a thing?_ The child knows her lies. She sees right through them. She knows her beauty has nothing to do with the looks today. She knows her Mother's beauty had nothing to do with it either.

Lucius is there, waiting for them. Listening and answering.

"Only if you wish to. Will you feel better? Safer?"

"No. I like that people look at me and feel a little afraid." There is an amused smile on the corner of her mouth. "My Mother was powerful. I am proud of that." And Lucius rolls his eyes like he hasn't done in years, because that roll used to be for Bellatrix alone, when she gloated on the way people moved out of her way.

Then he realizes the meaning of that declaration and of his reaction. _She knew that complete strangers were afraid. Of her. She liked it._

Blue eyes lock with grey ones, understanding. A conversation has been on hold for years. They must face it.

The truth of her Mother as the world knew her.

There is a coil in Lucius chest, twisting and burning. Suffocating. It takes all air away from his lungs. Could it be the truth of her too? _What have I done?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who is coming into this... get it right and you get to toss me a prompt about Delphini


	21. Fear

_The following day_

They must talk to Delphini. They simply have to tell her the truth about her Mother. Not everything though. They have decided to tell her the bare minimum. They will keep the rest until she is older, keeping the darkness at bay for as long as they can. But they must also know how much she knows. How she knows. Why she enjoys _that_ feeling.

Lucius had been furious the previous day. With himself. _How could they risk everything? How was he so stupid to not see the danger? The girl is a Metamorphmagus, for Merlin's sake! All we had to do was tell her to change her features…_ He had spent years shielding Narcissa from the shadows, keeping a delicate balance between his own darkness, his service of the Dark Lord, and the safety of her. Making sure, at all times, that they could accuse her of nothing. Making sure their son, when he finally came to be, would always have his Mother by his side and never grow up the way he did. _Motherless._ Or like Delphini is. _Orphaned._ And once again, he failed his most basic task: keeping his precious flower safe.

His heart ached all night, his head pounded, his mind deranged. The only thing keeping him sane through it all was the woman he held in his arms. Keeping her close, feeling her own heart through her, whispering reassuring nonsense into her ear, kissing her hair, rubbing away the tears on her cheeks, breathing in her scent at her nape. Clinging to her so that he would not wash away.

Narcissa didn't sleep at all. She could feel her husband's heart through her skin. She buried herself in his arms. Kissing, touching, caressing, possessing, starving for him, all too aware it could be the very last time. Aurors could be coming, could be crashing down their doors down that very moment. She trusts her guardian to keep her safe, but she is afraid for Delphini. And for her son, because he is _her_ guardian, the dragon that will lay waste to everything for her.

Morning is here now and there is no sign of the Aurors, no Ministry notification. Could it be that they would simply let them go?

_X_

Astoria is beside Draco, her head on his shoulder. Eyes flushed red and swollen from lack of sleep. She is not budging in her decision to be here. Wabby is looking over Scorpius and she is determined to be by Delphini's side. The Malfoys are all too close; she has distance from the war, from the terror of the Dark Lord. She does know about it. Draco confides in her often and she holds him tight in his nightmares.

Narcissa brings Delphini inside. The perfect little scion of the House of Black, in a deep blue dress, with a little smirk to her face. It vanishes immediately.

"Is it something that I did?" Her composure retreating, her eyes widening in worry.

"No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong." Narcissa's voice is calm and quiet, like her favourite piano pieces. "This is about your Mother. Remember the people looking yesterday?"

Delphini nods. She takes a seat, curls up, feet on the cushions, and looks positively amazed that no one tells her to sit properly and get her feet off the furniture. _Not even Uncle Lucius._

Her dragon comes to her rescue. "It's alright, little bird." Her unease is so palpable that he walks to her, picks her up and sits down where she was, cradling her, protecting her with his wings from whatever it is that's coming. Astoria gives her a reassuring little smile. Lucius sighs and nods, laying one of his hands over one of Narcissa's. _This is her family. She is safe in the cage of her dragon's body._ So they start.

They tell her of Mother, of her great power, of her loyalty to a cause that lost. Their cause, she knows. They explain why all those people looked and whispered at the sight of her. Because she does look a lot like Bellatrix Lestrange, a witch they all used to fear. They tell her about Mother using her power to hurt people, to fight, to destroy. They make sure she understands she used it to protect her child too, to fight for what she believed was right and better for her baby. They talk of her fierceness, of her passion, and of how it all came together to create one of the most powerful witches, and one all her enemies feared. They leave some things out, she can tell. But she is so enthralled by her Mother's memory that she lets it go. Another time, alone with Draco, she will ask about the rest.

Then they ask. And she tells. She tells them that she likes the fear in strangers' voices because it speaks to the reverence of her Mother. She likes the way they still remember her. She takes pride in the power of her Mother, in her surname, in her passion. She also tells them that sometimes, not always, not with all of them; it was like she could hear them think. She could feel their thoughts. Not listen to them, just sense the emotion there. That she cannot explain. Nor why she likes that. She just does.

Then she asks. Of her Father. They almost never mention him. _Rodolphus Lestrange._ She bears his surname too, but she loves her Mother more. She doesn't miss him. She knows he is locked away somewhere gloom and grim.

"Did he fight like Mother? Did he do bad things too? Was he powerful? Was he loyal? Did he love my Mother?"

"Yes, Delphini, Rodolphus fought, hard and to the very end." _But never with the same passion. Not the one of your Mother and never with that of their Master._

"Yes, he did bad things too. But Rodolphus loved you very much, still does, I'm sure." _But not with the same eagerness to serve his Master, no one could top Bellatrix. He does love you, just for a different reason._

_I won't refer to him as Father,_ Draco thinks, he cannot lie to her. _I was sworn to secrecy, not to the telling of lies._

_"Yes, your Father was very powerful."_ He leaves it at that, kissing the crown of her head.

"Of course he was loyal, he is a Slytherin." _Oh, how he was loyal to the Dark Lord. But how much more loyal he was to the woman he loved, despite never being loved back. Just never as loyal as Bella, no one was._

"Yes, Rodolphus loved your Mother. He loved Bellatrix with all his heart. Wanted nothing but her, and her happiness." _He remembers the look on Rodolphus eyes, that day in Hogwarts. But did your Father love your Mother? I cannot say._ "Maybe one day, when you are older, they will let you know him, talk to him. He will like to see you, his girl, all grown up." There is a sad smile on his face, she notices. _If I ever manage to let you near Azkaban and the Dementors, if the Ministry ever allows it. If Rodolphus is still sane, if he can still remember you…_

_So there is nothing wrong with me_ , she now knows. _But no one said a thing about what I feel of others' minds…_

When everyone makes to rise and leave, Narcissa holds her back. They sit down on their favourite spot, the piano bench. She pulls a silver cord from her pocket, a delicate chain with a pendant. _A bird skull._ She thinks it odd, but then learns it was Mother's and takes to loving it. Narcissa lets her wear it and she vows to keep it on her at all times, around her neck or otherwise. She will never let go of it.

_The bird skull her Father bestowed on her Mother when He learned of the child inside her. The small skull of an augurey, made of silver, their favourite metal. No one but Him knew of the meaning behind it at that time. Bella learned of it, eventually. The others did too, just much later. Gods, I miss her._

Narcissa made a promise to her sister, the day she told her, and swore her to secrecy about it. That should anything happen, she would retrieve the necklace from her body, her murderers, whoever had it, and give it to her precious child. When she had asked about the possibility of burying it with her, Bella caressed her expanding body where Delphini grew. "I will either die for Him or with Him. I will have that. I want my child to have us. Give it for me"

_You did, Bella, you have that. I did, Bella._

X

_A week later_

Delphini sees it on the table.

_The Daily Prophet_ sitting neatly folded next to her Uncle's place.

"The Next Generation-" is all she can see from the main title at the front page. That and half a picture. Her Aunt is walking down a street in the photograph. _It can't be. Why would Aunt Cissa be on the Prophet?_ She thinks it looks like Diagon Alley but she cannot be sure.

Vicious Mist is rubbing himself against her shins, drawing eights on the dark wood floor as he moves around her. She focuses on the slow purposeful caress of his grey fur, on the light blue eyes looking up, on the tail whipping the air and her dress.

Then she moves. Slow and purposeful. Her right hand stretched out in front of her, unfolding the newspaper and setting it back on the table.

It is Diagon Alley. It is Aunt Narcissa. And there _she_ is. Herself. Walking just ahead, curls bouncing with every stride.

"The Next Generation of Death Eaters?"

That is what it says over her half of the picture. "Death Eaters". _How do you eat death? Why am I on the front page? The camera wasn't even towards us..._

She needs to find Draco. She is about to turn around when she ears Uncle Lucius confident steps right behind her.

"Good morning, Delphi-" his nostrils shiver, a fist clenches, and he is so upright and rod-straight in that moment that he looks like the incarnation of wrath itself overlooking the doom of things beneath him.

She feels smaller standing there. She must have done something truly, deeply wrong to enrage him so. But the burning frost in his eyes never turns on her. It sticks to that front page.

"What is a Death Eater?" her voice is but a whisper, so low it could just be the spring wind coming inside through the curtains.

"Wait in your room. Stay there until I come for you. Do not leave. You are forbidden of talking to Wabby. Do not summon her. Go."

The words are spoken in absolute neutrality but they cut like the sharpest blades, like the frozen winds that ravage the moors in winter. Delphini's hair and eyes cannot settle on a colour. Her pupils have grown like those of a cat in the night. He must be truly furious.

_Wabby is always it, never her. Uncle Lucius always looks at me when he talks._

Lucius manages to notice what is happening to his niece. Not because he sees her, his glare is transfixed beyond her. It is the kneazle's dangerously angered growl at him, its ominous hissing and the stillness of its tail.

"You did nothing wrong, Delphini." He manages to push those words through his lips. Through his fear. "Just go upstairs." He should probably try to assure her, look into her eyes and ascertain that her magic remains controlled. Except he is nothing but out of bounds. He is afraid of looking into her green eyes and not seeing past the red glare that he knows lurks inside. He is afraid of what he might do.

"Get out, Delphini. Now!"

X

Delphini doesn't remember coming to her bedroom. She is panting, curled up on herself on the darkest corner of the room.

She can feel the change of her colours.

She can see the magic sparking off her skin.

She knows the walls are warmer since she's there.

But all she cares for is the fear running in her veins, the tears falling down her cheeks in a silent stream, the sobs that shake her to the core.

There is a picture of her Mother on her bedside table. She looks peaceful but she knows what she was capable of. She never wished for anything so hard as for her Mother to come back and make sure she is safe. She holds her Mother's necklace on her hand.

_"You did nothing wrong". But why did she feel like he wanted to hurt her... There was hatred in him, he wanted her gone._

There is a noise in the corridor, outside her door.

Her fear takes over and she lets her magic loose. There is a louder noise that she cannot place, she knows her eyes stopped changing, and there is a veil over every wall. It is dark and dangerous and she knows that it is her creation. But she does not care, she only fears.

A small shape in the corner of the room. A red glare in the shadows. A vicious thing keeping watch. A dark beast ready to pounce.

Pure unbound magic.

The purest form of fear.


	22. To Tickle a Sleeping Dragon

"Draco?" Her voice comes, warm and soft, but within it a worry.

"What is it, darling?" Somehow his Mother's endearment to his Father has become his own towards his wife.

"You-you should see t-this..."

"What troubles you?" He doesn't move, not yet. He will adjust his clothes to perfection and then see to her.

"Just come in here." Her voice is harsh. _Her voice is never harsh, not with me, never around Scorpius._ That gets him to move, in long but still measured strides, into the sunroom adjoining their bedroom, where they always break their fast together.

Astoria stands next to the table, her arms wrapped protectively around Scorpius soft shape. The boy's head rests on his mother's shoulder, the perfect fit for the gentle curve there. Her eyes have gone wide; her lips are parted, like she is incapable of gathering enough air through her nostrils. He rushes to her, to hold her, worried that she may be putting all her efforts into not dropping their child, as she does when she feels faint. She never lets go of consciousness until she feels her child is safe in Draco's arms.

"It's not that, Draco" she whispers as she feels his arms around her frail body, holding her up although she is not falling. "It's the _Prophet."_

"What about the _Prophet_? What could it possibly say to do this to you, hum? That the Dark Lord is ba-"

That is not what it says. It is much, much worse, he fears. His own Mother is there, on the front page, the image of perfection for the entire world to see. Except she has a little girl with her, walking just ahead. _That_ was not for the world to see.

_Delphini. They know about Delphini._

They have kept her outings discreet. Very discreet. They either attend receptions in other houses and take her or that very same small circle of people come to gather in their own house. They know of her, they also know not to speak of her to the outside world. Most comply immediately, no objection whatsoever. They are parents and grandparents that wish to spare their own children the stigma of their sins and of their past. Those who might just mention her have been dealt with. Swearing them into secrecy, threatening them if needed be. His own Father had become rather apt at glaring at people just so and getting his point across: "A word of her and there will be consequences". The fact that they do not know the extent of her power frightens them just enough. They do not know, but they certainly feel her when she comes in a room.

"I'll kill Potter! I will! And those bloody half-wits of the Ministry-" He's not even thinking anymore. His precious girl has been exposed in the worst possible way and he will have blood for it.

"Draco! You know it wasn't Harry! He would never speak to the journalists about Delphie. Especially to _her_."

He takes one long, deep breath, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose, as if that could stop the impending headache.

_This is exactly why we protect her, exactly why she almost never goes out… I've been keeping her pretty much locked inside a bubble and that green bloody freak of a half-blood journalist just went and screwed it all up! Oh, I'll give her Death Eater. I'll make my Aunt Bellatrix proud!_

Astoria looks on. Her husband is losing it in the most composed way she has ever seen anyone loose it, and she knows that means his mind is a furious mess. She is angry herself, but nothing compares to the rage simmering beneath Draco's pale skin.

"Narkey!" With Scorpius and Delphini running about, leaving chaos in their path, they decided on a second house-elf. When the elf pops in front of her, she lowers Scorpius to his arms and orders him to feed the toddler. "Keep your little master in his playroom for a while, if you please."

"Narkey will be doing just that, Mistress Astoria. Could Narkey be taking young master to see little mistress? Fond of her, little master is." The elf grins at her, but she cannot help the fright running down her spine.

"No, Narkey. My son stays in the playroom." It comes out harsher than she means to, and she is sure there will be self-injury because of it but there are bigger things in her mind.

_It's happening… I'm afraid of a child! A little girl, who adores my boy, and here I am keeping him at a safe distance…_ She forces those thoughts to the back of her mind, convincing herself that it is just for the morning, until they are all sure that Delphini can understand why this piece of paper might bring so many things into her life. _Things went so smoothly yesterday. How could this happen?_

A ragged breath from Draco brings her back to reality. He is still seething, his composure is cracking. His hands are both tightly closed fists, and there is a crimson shade rising through the skin at his neck. He is up for a fight, she realizes. He is up for breaking into the Ministry and the Prophet's offices and raise hell for this.

"Draco," she tries with a soothing voice, moving towards him, placing a hand on his arm, "you can't just go into a fury now. We need to tell Delphini the rest about-"

"You think I don't know that? Do you think me so daft, Astoria, truly?" He never speaks to her like this, but he cannot help it. Someone dared disturb his carefully rebuilt world. Someone squirmed into their lives with that _thing_ on the table and thinking straight is out of his abilities right now. "That sorry excuse of a half-blood would-be-journalist… Whoever talked to her… They'll pay, Toria, I'll make sure of it, I'll…" He doesn't care to finish his sentences anymore.

_It is the one promise I will not allow to falter! They will not make her into something she is not!_ His mind is lost in a maze of red anger. All of his training as a Death Eater surfacing, allowing him to build scenarios of destruction, of dead culprits made to pay with pain. _No, no, no! Stop it! You can't do that, there is no way you'll convince anyone outside that she is not dangerous if you become a raging lunatic on the streets looking for revenge! Stop! Think, you idiot!_

He can't.

And she can only worry for him. He hasn't used blood insults in years now, he shares her forgiving views on blood purity, and yet, it's the first place he goes. _Old habits do die hard. They are coming for his treasure and he is not going down without a fight… My brave, brave husband with his broken wings will always stand between his treasure and the rest of the world._

There's true adoration in her eyes and that seems to hold him for a while. Enough to ask him if they shouldn't at least read the article and become fully aware of what they're up against. He gathers himself and wraps his arms around her waist.

"You turn the pages. If I touch that thing, I have a feeling it will vanish in flames and smoke."

They stand by the table then. Examining the headline and the short text under the moving picture. "Known Death Eater, suspiciously forgiven twice for her treachery, Narcissa Malfoy is raising the Mad Witch's spawn into Darkness. Is the Dark Lord rising again?" Astoria keeps stroking his hands, holding them at times, as they read through a web of half-truths, full-blown lies and utter gibberish not even Trelawney could come up with. By the end of it, they are both considerably calmer. The absence of the girl's true siring slowly making its path through their minds, into understanding.

"I'm still going to hurt someone for this! I'm getting to the bottom of this, and I'm making sure those half-wits learn a lesson or two about what a Malfoy can still do!"

She turns in his arms, smiling. The dragon no longer breathes fire, for the moment that is. His pride dictates his course now and she feels it's a much better choice than revenge and exacerbated protective instincts. She holds his face in her hands and brings his forehead to hers.

"Before you unleash whatever Malfoys deem fit to unleash on their foes, we must talk to Delphini. She doesn't know anything about Death Eaters and you know she will ask questions for a week straight. Let's make sure she is aware of things first, so that we can deal with the rest of the world later, shall we?" Her kind eyes never leave his. _There is so much concern in those icy expanses, so much sorrow for what he cannot spare his precious girl._ _His little bird_ , she thinks.

"What would I do without you?" _Truly, what would I do without this wonder of a woman that stood by my side during the worst of the war and somehow found it in her to stay?_ "Always so wise, Toria, always so measured. A dangerous kind of Slytherin, you are." There is a half smirk on his lips as he pecks hers, a play of relaxation. He holds her close as she tells him that they should head over to his parents wing and discuss their options together.

Then they hear loud voices in the distance. Precisely from the older Malfoy couple's wing. They are both stunned and surprised by the fact that Narcissa is raising her voice at her husband. Draco has no recollection of such a thing, ever. It's his turn to take charge.

"You stay here. Stay with Scorpius, do not come to us unless I send one of the elves, Toria. Don't even try to interrupt me. I don't know what's happened, but I need you to take care of our son. If things go wrong, I need you to reassure Delphini for me. Just wait a while. If I don't call for you, call for Delphie. Take care of her for me. Tell her." He leaves at that, not even looking back over his shoulder. He trusts her, completely, and that is enough reassurance for her. She stands there, as his frantic steps take him away.

X

It doesn't take long until she feels something change in the house. She is with Scorpius again, combing his blond hair with her fingers as she entertains him with little wisps of magic that leave her wand.

It is strange, this thing. Foreign to all that she knows of magic. But it is magic, cold, vicious, dark magic. And she fears the little bird's dragon has been pushed too far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, would you be so kind as to leave your thoughts?
> 
> I have uploaded another side piece to this, it's in my series. In the Wee Hours of the Night was supposed to be a chapter in this but didn't make it. It's my foundation for the relationship between Lucius and Delphini


	23. Anger

 

From the door, she sees him. Lucius is sitting down at the table, a scowl on his face, his breathing uneven. _Something is very wrong…Where is Delphini?_ She is always first to breakfast, so that she can feed her pets from the table without being scolded for it.

"Darling…" she tries. When his eyes remain still on the newspaper, she moves from the doorstep, getting closer while adjusting to possibilities. She heard her husband raise his voice, but figured it was about feeding Vicious. Or Darkie. They alternate so that the raven doesn't become a meal himself. She now realizes it has absolutely nothing to do with it. Her husband has a look about him she has not seen in years.

_He looked like this in the mornings. When he didn't come home until sunrise. When he wouldn't go upstairs so as not to soil our family._

Not caring about Malfoy propriety for a second, she stands next to him and takes his face on her hands. His eyes hold pain and sorrow, but his face keeps to the wrath she feels shivering through him, oozing off his body like a black muck, sliding and spreading around him. She keeps her eyes on his, questioning first, waiting then. He does not answer her, in any way. Simply looks to the newspaper, compelling her to do the same.

A gasp, a clear manifestation of horror, leaves her lips. Her hands drop to the table and her knees falter. She allows herself to kneel against an exquisitely carved leg.

_She was right on that day, her instinct was right and she had buried it. The second flash was evident, but the first one had different subjects. The green thing in her peripheral, the blonde. The beetle. The woman._

"Rita Skeeter, then?" Her voice holds a menace.

"Yes" he growls back. His voice breaks. His fury is not at the article. There is something else there, she can tell.

"Where is Delphini? We need to talk to her again, to talk of what was left out-"

Her husband sobs. Sobs. His whole frame faltering, his head on his hands. There are tears running down between his fingers and over his hands. She doesn't know what to do. Her mind has not a clue and so runs loose, and wild, and mad, and mean. Over a cliff and into an abyss.

"What did you do to her?" It is her turn to growl. She flattens her palms against the floor and pushes her body away from him. "You… you never wanted her, you always resented her… You monster, what did you do? Answer me!"

His sobs rise, his fingers carve into his scalp, his nails digging in. She knows that pain, has seen it before. _He had killed a child one night_ , she remembers. But she feels nothing for him. She knows the beast inside him, but _this_ , she cannot stand _this_.

"Tell me, Lucius! What did you do to Delphini? What did you do to Bella's daughter?"

A sound made of pain leaves her husband, a sigh, a wail, a cry. A plea. The attempt of a breath follows.

"Stop, Cissa… _please_."

He is begging. There is a Malfoy begging in front of her. And that shatters her own wrath, her own beast, and slams into her mind, halting it at once. His voice comes, meek, hitched, broken and somehow still breaking.

"I was afraid of myself. I thought of…" he cannot say it. He cannot say his first instinct was to take Delphini from his house and his family. He won't even allow himself to think it again, "I couldn't, but I… I had to send her away."

Narcissa lunges forward, embracing her darkness, all of her fury. She stands tall, looking down, over her husband and then puts her wand to his neck. He is her guardian, but she is the keeper of this family. He raises his head at that, looks at her, seeing all of her, bare, and drops his arms to his sides, offering his vulnerability. He does not care for his life in that moment. The things that had gone through his mind were much worse than anything he had ever dreamt of the Dark Lord doing. Much worse than what he would imagine when Bellatrix took the blood-curling screams she liked from her victims in the basement.

_I was willing to destroy her, to destroy my family, for the sake of my flower and my son._ Like the lioness and the dragon would stay by the side of the man that snuffed a little bird out of existence. _Not a man, a monster. I was willing to leave her to the wolves of the Ministry, to drop her off in the Muggle world if necessary, and deny everything._ Even his care. Even his unspoken love of that child. _Not a monster, a vile crawling low creature._

Narcissa has tears on her cheeks, flowing free, down her chin, dropping to her cleavage, drawing patterns of shimmering light against her flesh. She keeps her wand at his throat, but cannot say the words, cannot bring forth the green light she fears was her niece's last sight. The green light that already took so much. Too much.

She turns the wand on herself. Puts it to her chest, over her heart. Opens her mouth to call forth death.

"NO!" Lucius slaps her hand viciously, the tip of her wand scratching her skin, leaving an angry red mark behind.

"I will not-" her words are interrupted by a devouring kiss planted violently upon her lips. She claws at his chest, pushing, squirming away from the monster that holds her face with such strength her bones hurt.

He needs that reassurance of her presence. That physicality which proves that she still lives. He leaves her face and holds her arms against her sides, wrapping his own arms around them and her fragile waist, crushing her bones. She fights him, bites him, kicks him. He deserves all that and worse, much worse. He removes his mouth only when he absolutely must, when there are dark flecks on his vision. "I did not hurt her. I did not pull my wand on her." _How I wanted to. It wasn't even the knowledge that the girl was just that, a girl, which stopped me. It was you. It was the thought of losing you._ But that will remain unspoken. He lets go of her, completely, and stands at her mercy. "I sent her to her rooms."

_He protected her!_ Narcissa stands there, saying nothing, doing nothing. _He sent her to the one place he cannot reach. He kept her behind the one door that will take his life, and that of anyone else, should he ever attempt to cross it in anger. Any intention of wrong doing towards Delphini becomes a death sentence there, at that threshold._

"What does it say? What did that foul woman write about us?" She is not quenched in her ire yet. But priorities come to her mind. Damage control.

"She writes of a Lestrange child. It's right there, below the photo. I haven't read any further."

Narcissa's lungs feel like they have been deprived of air for an eternity as she gasps for it. She leans on her husband. Her darkness subsiding. She needs to know her facts before she can talk to Delphini.

"Wabby!" The inflection to her voice speaks of nothing but power. The elf comes, cracking at a safe distance from her masters. "Take Delphini's breakfast upstairs. Stay with her. Come get me if anything happens. Go!" The frightened elf leaves. _Her mistress is never like this anymore, not since the war ended._

She moves away from her husband and reads through the article, all of it, several times. Insinuations and insults, hear-say and filth, but nothing of their secret. The Malfoys are supposedly grooming Delphini into a Death Eater, according to Rita. They are raising the daughter of Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange into a dark witch, so that they can start another war and impose their pureblood values on society once more, using the girl as a beacon to congregate those not imprisoned or dead. They have plans of sending her to Durmstrang so that she can learn about the Dark Arts. They have books of old magic that contain information needed to bring Lord Voldemort back. Skeeter is off the mark by a whole continent and Narcissa's heart beats steadier at that.

"Tell me exactly what happened, Lucius. Please." Now she must know the rest, so that she can tend to her sister's treasure.

Her husband is still in the same place, revelling in the sight of this flower turned feral then protector. Of the wife he chose and was lucky enough to be chosen by. He tells her. Everything. Even that he was afraid to find crimson in Delphini's eyes. Even that he was afraid of killing her in his rage, in his fear, in is hunger of safety for them.

Now they worry for her. She cannot read their minds, but she can feel their thoughts. She must have felt the anger, the danger, the threat. She orders Lucius to stay. She will not have him approach their niece just yet. She will not allow him anywhere near that door. She will go. Her darkness subsiding completely as she readies herself for the task ahead.

Only to rise in one last dying wave. "Then we will see to Rita." The menace is clear. "And we'll ask of Draco to go to Mr. Potter and see what can be done" Final, commanding.

_My dark lioness._

Their son's steps sound on the boards. Rushed, uneven, frenetic. Running at times. His panting audible now.

He looks as out of sorts as he was the day he came home from Hogwarts after the tower. "Astoria showed me the _Prophet_. What do we do?" He looks to his Mother, instinctively recognising the shift of power.

As she is about to reply, a gloom comes over them. It is cold, dark, ominous. And familiar. This is magic unbound in a way they already know. That they all remember.

The Dark Lord's.

Delphini's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is another one shot side piece up already called "Of the Severing of Ties" and now that the cat is out of the bag (or the beetle, as you prefer) there will soon be another one "The Scoop of her Life"  
> Reviews are greatly appreciated, thank you for sticking with this  
> THANK YOU for the subscriptions, and the kudos and the bookmarks
> 
> Edited: The Scoop of Her Life is up on my series


	24. Retaliation and Retribution

There is a noise at her door. A presence beyond it.

There is a crimson-eyed shape in a dark corner. Doom waiting to strike.

Another noise from the corridor. There may be a voice to it, her mind is beyond that. Someone is approaching her. The dark veil within her room waves over the walls, almost like a dance. The most dangerous dance there is, that of the Dark.

The door cracks open and seems to be coming ajar for a moment.

A loud whipping crack answers it, cutting the air, striking, crushing.

A soft breath sounds. She can't listen to it any more than she could before. Her ears ring of something else. There is a thump just outside her door, followed by shattering.

She cares nothing of it. There was a menace, there is no more. Until realization sinks in her mind.

She eliminated the menace. _Eliminated._ The tiny rise of pride immediately falls, only to be replaced by dread. She eliminated something. _Someone._ Her magic has done something new, foreign to her knowledge. Foreign to her will.

Her ears stop ringing with fear. The darkness is coiled again, sticking to the walls. She knows it's hers and so wills it back, into a deep place she holds secret inside her.

She can ear steps now. Running steps. Draco's steps and lighter ones. It takes her a minute to place those. _Aunt Narcissa. She never runs._

Opening the door all the way now, she sees. She sees what her magic has done. _What I have done. It was me. That was mine._ Her mind struggles to put the pieces together. She cannot fathom how the darkness that comforted her just minutes ago is the same thing responsible for the fallen body at her feet.

The steps are much closer now, and she can see a blond shape turning the corner in her peripheral.

"Don't come near me! I'll hurt you!" She is so very afraid of hurting someone else now. Wabby is suspiciously still, lying in an unnatural position. _Uncle Lucius is right. I should be gone, I'm evil._ She doesn't know how she did it, but she knows it was her. She willed that darkness forward. She willed it to hurt. _To kill._

X

"Delphini, don't!" He knows exactly why Wabby is so still. He has seen it before. He doesn't want her to know.

"Go away, Draco! No one can come near me!" Her eyes stay frozen on the house-elf.

It has happened. What he has been afraid of ever since she was born has happened. Her magic has done what it was created for. That is the truth of it.

_Her parents would be proud. Their augurey was supposed to bring forth a new era, they meant to raise her as a weapon, killing, destroying and ruling was the reason she was allowed to be born. The instillation of fear. She fulfilled that wish of her parents. They would be proud indeed. But she is terrified._

Her face is blank but he can see it in her eyes. She understands that this is different. This isn't just hurting to keep from being hurt. This is killing. It is driven by fear all the same, he knows that, he can see that, but he has never been so afraid of her. He feels like running, like getting his wand, like protecting his Mother, and himself, and her.

His mind halts at that. _Protecting her._ That is his mission and his promise. He will not allow himself to fail. He breaths, in and out, several times, pacing his heart and his mind.

"Delphini, it's alright. You are safe-"

"It's not alright! And you are not safe! Aunt Cissa take him away, _please_! I'll stay in my rooms like Uncle said. _Please_ , _don't send me away_. I'll never do this again, I promise. Just let me stay. I'll stay here, I'll be good-"

The rest succumbs to sobs. Her eyes change continuously.

"Mother, step back. I have this." He should not have said that. It is the worst thing he could have said. He can see Delphini's heart shattering in her eyes, finally setting on her mesmerising green. _You idiot! You proved her fears right! Think this through, now!_

"Delphini, it's fine little bird. You're not even eight yet, you can't control your magic. It is not your fault."

Buy she shakes her head. Tears running down her cheeks, shoulders shaking.

"Don't come near me. Keep the others away. Ward Scorpius, I don't want my magic to hurt him. I'll stay here, I won't leave my rooms. I'm too dangerous, I did this."

"Delphie-" But it's too late. She shuts him out, retreating into her rooms. And at that he understands. _"I'm too dangerous, I did this." This time it wasn't an accident. She didn't mean to kill, but she had some sort of control, lacking has it is. She did do this._

He needs to get to her, he cannot leave her alone now. He cannot let her believe what the world will say of her. She is not evil, she is not like her Mother, she is nothing like her Father, and he must convince her of it. He moves toward the doors.

"Draco, the doors!" His own Mother is stuck to the ground.

"The doors are not under Delphie's control. They won't harm me. Neither will she." But a little girl's voice shrieks from inside as he puts his palm against it. She is utterly terrified, not of him or his Father, but of herself and her magic. And in fear... she might just harm him, despite her will.

His Mother makes for his arm. "Not now, not yet. She needs to come down from it before..." They exchange a look of remembrance. Her parents were to be left alone in the aftermath too. There was nothing they could do but keep their distance and wait. They will do the same this one time, and then they will love their child and teach her better.

"You should go to Mr. Potter, I'll take your Father and deal with the newspaper."

"And Rita," he growls "I can do that."

"You are going nowhere near her, nor the _Prophet's_ offices. Let me and your Father handle that."

He nods and she leaves him, banishing the elf into another room, where they can try and figure out what hit it. He decides he cannot leave Delphini and that he will summon Potter here. _And Granger, we need her help to control this. And to figure out how Delphini managed to do that._

X

Lucius and Narcissa walk through the doors exuding anger, emanating the old power only ancient blood can carry that gracefully. Their wrath is a palpable thing, a majestic creature on a tight leash, walking beside them.

Lucius goes straight for the editor's office, not even wasting a glance at a frantic secretary trying to appease him. He could almost move through her, so much that she just stands by the closed door, incapable of both hearing and moving. He will play his cards, man to man, keeping his family life private. But he is well aware that the certainty of such outcome lies elsewhere. With his magnificent flower turned dark lioness yet again. She is the one who will ascertain their dominance through terror. _To infuriate a Malfoy is a wrong move, Miss Skeeter. But to infuriate a Black... it's an entirely different game of chess._ One that she's already lost.

Narcissa stands at a glass panelled door. Golden letters announce its ownership. _Rita Skeeter_. She is seething and determined to unleash her anger, and her fear, on the blasted green woman. Her only regret is that her sister is not here. _I'd so let Bella loose and alone with you, you disgusting beetle._ For once in her life, the flower wishes for the warrior's ruthlessness, for the warrior's despise of lower things, for the warrior's ability to inflict pain. But overall she wishes for a way to undo it all. _Since that is not happening, I'll settle for second best._ She composes her features and knocks. Knocks! The dark lioness was raised a proper highborn witch and is about to teach a social climber what family means in the circle she will never be allowed into.

"Come in." Rita is looking over her glasses to the figure in white at the threshold. A coy smile in her face, a malicious glint in her eyes, as she rises and speaks. "Mrs. Malfoy, what can I do for you?" She gulps at the end of the sentence. Not a Malfoy she realizes, on the other side of her desk stands a member of the _Ancient and Most Noble House of Black_ and she is suddenly very aware that she does not know what Bella's little sister is capable of.

Narcissa gets very, very, close to allowing her prim façade to falter as the doubt in Rita's eyes grows. She doesn't. This woman's actions terrorised her niece, drove her to lose control, and drove her husband to the verge of his sanity. It's her turn to be scared out of her mind, now, and she will bring all of it down on her soul, until she is left so meek not even a _Dementor_ would be interested in it.

"Why, Rita, must you always meddle?" She allows the woman in green a second to gulp and shrink back to her seat. Another to feel just how very low beneath her she is. Then she sets her palms on the wooden secretary and lets her anger flow.

The green quill, which ran frantically over parchment just now, has frozen in place. It falls to the floor. Narcissa's voice is not raised once, she is in absolute control. Rita is more and more aware of it by the second. By the time Narcissa leaves, all she remembers is Lucius standing at her door, a smug smirk on his mouth and a knowing glare in his glance. That and how very much she remembers being made to feel like this only once in the past. In a greenhouse after everyone else had left, when she was a fourteen year old at Hogwarts, equally terrified. Another Black, with meaner eyes, all burning rage where this one is freezing anger. Another goddess of wrath bringing doom and downfall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A penny for your thoughts


	25. Damage Control

Draco has summoned Potter and Granger. He keeps pacing the room, carving a straight line into the floor just ahead of the fireplace.

A mess of black hair over green eyes, shielded by glasses, makes it through green erupting flames. The man tries to do something with his hair, but it's no good.

"Potter... One would think you'd be able to use a certain potion to fix that." He needs his help, but that doesn't mean he cannot indulge in banter. It's the only way they can relate.

"Draco, what happened? All you had to do was cover for us until she goes to Hogwarts. Don't you have the space? How did Skeeter find out about her?"

"Apparently it wasn't you." Potter tosses a look that says bite my, but doesn't utter a word. "I'm not sure. Can we just wait for Granger? So that I only have to deal with your flabbergasted faces once?"

"Friendly as always I see." Comes a voice from another burst of green flames. Her hair has been coerced into a proper work-place hairdo, but brown curls still pop out here and there. "How did this happen? The Ministry is going crazy with that article, Draco!"

He lets them in on as much as he knows. He is still not sure of the method Rita used to gather information, but Granger promptly informs him, and reminds Potter, that she happens to be an unregistered _Animagus_. They all knew that this secret of theirs would come to light, but they all hoped it would only happen when Delphini hopped on the _Hogwarts Express_ for the first time.

Then he talks them through what is so far the worst morning in Delphini's life. At that their eyes change in different ways. Potter seems to be dwelling in his memories, but Granger is obviously calculating a course through this storm. She has her own children now, and he hopes that is enough to keep any thoughts to take his girl away well at bay.

"So, she killed the house-elf? Using magic?" Her eyes tell him that she is desperately trying to make sense of her own sentence. "And you still think you can keep her from being anything but what she is supposed to?"

"Hermione! Come on! You know what I went through! That's not fair on her." And at that, a small sample of the chaos that must be the conversations outside his house is delivered personally to Draco. He manages to divert them by proposing they examine Wabby. Maybe they can find out how a not-yet-eight magical prodigy of a girl managed to take out a house-elf. Without a wand or proper knowledge of magic.

Whatever it was, it's dark and meaningful, but not controlled. That much they can establish. There was no true intention in her actions. They ask to see her, and he simply has to tell them of her reaction. Potter and Granger exchange a wary look of "I'm not trying my luck with those doors again". The three of them debate possibilities for what feels like an eternity, just like the first time. Draco is protective; Potter is the soft-hearted boy-who's-been-through-it-all making a case for family ties and love, and Granger is her usual rational self. Except, this time, they are all parents. They are all very aware of the war the Malfoys will declare should they even consider taking Delphini away. But mostly, they are mindful of the power of such bonds and of the damage breaking them will cause.

Draco assures them that he can get to his cousin. That he can fix his little bird's heart, explain it all to her and keep her safe. Keep her from darkness, they understand without ever mentioning it.

Potter and Granger decide they will take the worst of the heat upon themselves. They will head back to the Ministry, gather the Aurors that didn't already know, explain themselves to them, and then make public statements condemning Rita's article for the pile of lies it is, exposing the truth. Well, the truth they can expose. They will stand for her once more. Delphini is to be kept a Lestrange, by any means necessary, and to remain a ward of the Malfoys. They promise to try, but they cannot vow for the other Aurors and Ministry workers that no one will come barging in Malfoy Manor.

"You have to keep them away! If she feels scared again in the following days…" Draco doesn't dare think of what would happen if she were to unleash her magic on an unsuspecting Auror. _There would be a new record for the youngest incarcerated witch in Azkaban, that's what would happen._

When they walk through the green flames again, he lets himself crumble to the floor. He just sits there for a while. His task has just begun. He needs to warn Astoria that all is under control. _I can't very well tell her that everything is fine!_ He needs to order Narkey to keep away from Delphini's quarters. And he needs, desperately needs, to talk to her. He needs to fix his precious girl, to get her world back to its proper course. Except he doesn't have a clue on how to do just that if she won't let him in.

He gathers some joy out of the knowledge that his Mother is handling Rita Skeeter just now. Then he pushes himself off the floor, walking towards his own wing, jostling the pieces of what he hopes is just one puzzle, but is all too aware may be half a dozen piled together in the same box of his mind.

X

His parents make it back through the doors of the Manor. He can feel it in the wards of the house, the way that magic welcomes them. He leans against a wall, greeting them. He fills them in on his meeting with Potter and Granger. He notices the slight distaste in both their faces at the mention of the Muggle-born, but he can't bring himself to care.

His Mother excuses herself, she wants to try and talk to Delphini. Draco sights. All his attempts have resulted in nothing but panic in her voice, ordering him away from her again and again. No magical outburst though. He asks his Father, the moment she leaves:

"How afraid of Mother is Skeeter?"

There is true pride in his Father's voice and demeanour as he answers, with a low grumble in the back of his throat. "She will never write of us. Delphini can go and become Minister of Magic, she still won't dare write her name ever again. I'm considerably sure she is still not capable of standing from her chair."

That is one more thing off his to-do list. He has explained everything to Astoria. There was a distinct moment during which she absolutely wanted to take their son and run, but just like years before, when a war raged, she took her fear and made something stronger of it. She was positively furious when he forbade her of approaching Delphini for the time being, but there was understanding in her eyes at the sadness in his. _She remains weak. I can't let her exhaust herself because of a choice my family made._ But just like she could read his mind, her fingers found their way to his chin and raised his eyes to her. _I chose this family, I chose you, and I chose Delphini,_ she told him wordlessly.

"Father, there is one more thing I need to know." They both know what he means and Lucius confides in him the truth of his feelings in those minutes he spent at the bottom of an abyss they all thought they had escaped.

X

He finds himself back before Delphini's chambers. His Mother is there, sitting primly on a chair just next to the doors. She has all the sorrow of the world in her eyes. _I can't lose anyone else,_ her soul screams through her eyes. He rubs her shoulder, trying to comfort her. He tells her to get some rest. He will keep watch. He will reach his little bird this time.

Narcissa looks back, over her shoulder, from the end of the corridor. The dragon is back in his place. She wants to stay, to help, to nurture her little star, but her heart aches unbearably. This feels like losing Bella to darkness all over again, like losing Andromeda to light all over again, like being left alone in this grey patch where she has lived for most of her life yet again. Never taking clear sides, so that she can rescue her family. Endangering herself before her eldest sister and their Master, diminishing herself to her own family, all for the sake of keeping a family of her own safe. That scared girl behind the door and the young man before it are her only true choices, and the mere possibility of living without one of them has drained her of all energy.

X

She can feel Draco's presence outside her doors. She has managed to take hold of the darkness and supress it.

She is still scared of what could have happened. Sitting in front of a mirror, looking at herself, trying to assure her mind that she is still her and not some dark creature she feels took over for a while that morning. She is so angry at her actions that her eyes shimmer red in the mirror. She takes a gulp of air at that. She cannot place it, but there is a memory lurking there, in that red shimmer. She stares into them, but nothing comes forward and her green comes back before she can control it.

_What if the red is the creature? What if that is who I am, truly?_ She panics at that possibility. That she could be evil from the start and never escape it. She sobs again and she misses comfort, and family, and love, and care. And it is all so overwhelming she gives up on her isolation and calls for her dragon.

He runs inside. _He is not afraid of me,_ her mind gathers from the look in his eyes, _he is worried about me._ And the gapping whole in her small-but-too-big of a heart brings whatever remains right and proper down.

He holds her tight, cradling her on his arms, sitting on the floor, humming nonsense in her ears. She doesn't really hear it as much as she feels the vibration of his voice making it through her sobs and wails. She is afraid again, but not of Uncle Lucius or of what the newspaper said. She is afraid of not belonging, of not being right for them. Of being dark, like her parents. Of hurting people, like her parents. Of liking it, like her parents.

She doesn't know how long she has been like this, but she feels so good and warm here. There is dampness by her cheek, where it meets his chest. She is very still now, no longer crying, or sobbing, or thinking, or fearing. Just feeling. He angles his head and smiles down at her. She can see the glistening of tears in his eyes, and the paths they made down his face, unto her curls. She gives him a shy little smile.

Draco messes up her curls at that. The wild messy mane is now tangled beyond most spell work.

"What did you do that for?" She is absolutely indignant, glaring at him, her hands holding her hair down by her neck, moving it all to the opposing side, out of his reach.

"To prove a point." His smile is wider. And mischievous, like he knows something she doesn't. "You hate it when people touch your hair. It makes you absolutely furious that I dare messing it all up. You are mad at me right now-"

"Yes, I am! Very much so! What is your point?"

_There is no Him in her, just a very Aunt Bella way of demanding explanations_ , he realizes. He has made it through, he knows.

"You didn't hurt me." He tucks his smile to the corner of his mouth. He looks at his feisty cousin and waits for realization to dawn upon her.

She understands. She lunges for his neck and wraps her arms about it. She holds tight, like she is holding on for dear life, until her dragon's wings are back around her, shielding her from the darkness once more. From the world outside. From whatever it is that lurks inside her.

And she feels safe and loved again. And she knows she is not the red eyed creature.

And his chest is not heavy anymore. And he knows she is not the red eyed creature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't take me wrong, I really appreciate thw kudos, but I would love some written feedback


	26. Feathers Shed

_April 2005_

She has been taking all her meals with Draco, Astoria and Scorpius. She had asked for Scorpius to be taken before she came inside the room, but Astoria had been relentless. Scorpius would stay.

"But 'Toria, I'm afraid I'll hurt him! I can't control-"

"You will learn to control your powers then. You and I both know you don't want to hurt us, so teach your magic to obey you. Train your control around us. Don't wait until you're surrounded by those who won't understand, Delphie."

She had no answer to that. Draco had looked into her eyes and nodded. They trusted her around them, around Scorpius. So she would learn.

She spends most of her time with Aunt Narcissa, to be on the safe side. She takes her to the piano, it sooths both of them. She is teaching her to control her magic. Lovingly, patiently, telling her how to calm herself, how to restrain her magic when it wants to escape her will. She keeps telling her stories of her Mother, of how she struggled to control her powers too, of how things flew about the house every now and then because of it. Of how she got a cat because of her Mother's magical mishaps. She laughs, frankly, unbound and terribly happy, at the tale of a very important Ministry owl being blown up into a rain of feathers after startling her Mother with its clumsy landing.

"You see, you're not the first in this family to run into trouble with birds." She tells her with a laugh of her own, holding her close. Then she kisses the top of her head and both her cheeks, sending her off to bed. She runs to the other wing, bids goodnight to Draco and Astoria, takes a peak into Scorpius crib, sending Narkey cracking in the air straight to the kitchen at her entrance. She giggles, then sights because of what happened, and then tosses it all over her shoulders as she runs to her bedroom, no diversions.

She feels safer under the white veil that covers her bed, it's her favourite place to think. There is something very familiar about that veil, but then it has always been above her, shielding her completely, drawing itself closed whenever she gets into bed. Aunt Narcissa has told her that it is a gift from her parents, a charmed thing to keep her safe at night. It expands as needed, transitioning from her crib, to the little bed that will soon belong to Scorpius, to this bigger bed she has now. _"It's their love keeping you safe, sweetheart. Protecting you was their way of making sure you'd always know they love you",_ she remembers. _I_ _f only it could keep nightmares away too_ , she wishes.

X

All four of them are in the dining room. Her magic hasn't sparked once since that day. She is still wary of it, and Narkey keeps a safe distance, though it has earned him several glares from Draco. He won't have his and Astoria's efforts ruined by the house-elf. _Absolutely not, I'll curse the thing myself!_ He looks on as Delphini entertains his son by levitating the silverware. Controlling it, guiding it through the air, precisely.

"Delphini, I need my fork back, you know?"

She smiles and sets the fork back on the table, on its proper place by the side of his plate. Then slides it an inch to the left as he moves to hold it. He raises an eyebrow at her and congratulates her with his eyes.

He does still have bigger concerns. He has confirmed it with his Mother. Delphini remains terribly afraid of his Father. She will not go near him; she gets out of the room when he comes him, keeping as much distance between them as physically possible. His Father is doing his own part on keeping distance. He avoids her; he refrains from entering the same room.

He doesn't know which one is more scared of the other.

He does have to fix it.

Potter and Granger have fixed the _Prophet_ 's issue as well as they possibly can. They took most of the heat of public outrage after assuming they had been part of the decision to keep Delphini a secret and under Malfoy custody. The Ministry had demanded to examine her and her mind, to make sure her knowledge of the darkness was absent. Granger had presented them every single article, law and precedent on the forbidden use of Legilimency on a child. Potter had fought them over coming down on the Malfoys again for the sake of picking a little girl apart. Compromises have been made. They will meet Delphini, but later, after the turmoil. Potter and Granger have not said a word of the elf incident. There are no doubts in their minds about what would happen should _that_ ever come out.

So now it's his turn again. He has to somehow convince both his Father and his cousin to share a room for more than five seconds.

X

He is the one person in the house that never touches her. Never holds her, never embraces her, never combs her hair with careful fingers.

He is the one who sometimes doubts. She doesn't know what he doubts, exactly, but it concerns her, that much she knows. She is afraid of that doubt, more than she is afraid of anything else. Because that doubt may be of her place in the family, and that is the _one thing_ she will not forfeit. She will not have her place taken from her. She has nothing else. _I'm not a Malfoy, but I do belong here._

Draco brings her to him. They meet on neutral ground, on the room with the piano. Uncle Lucius is standing by a window. She can't help to gulp at the sight of him. She is extremely aware of what may be about to happen, and her magic coils inside her once more. She stops before the door, willing it down to its corner, desperately trying to command it. She decides on a somewhat controlled exhibition, and changes her features to the Malfoy-like girl she used to assume.

There is a concerned squeeze on her hand. Draco closes the door before them, barring them from Uncle Lucius, crouching down in front of her.

"You don't have to do that, Delphie. You don't have to hide."

Except she wants to. She is afraid of her Uncle and there is a voice in her mind that tells her to look like him, that it will help. It also tells her that Draco is her best chance and that she needs him in that room too. She doesn't say a word, simply shaking her head and refusing to let go of his hand when he stands and tells her that she can go in whenever she likes.

There is a plea in her now ice blue eyes. Draco's heart contorts in his chest at that. He understands what she is most afraid of. She is not afraid of being hurt, she is not afraid of being locked away in some room. She is afraid of not being loved. Of not belonging. Of being sent away from her family.

That is why she stands here, refusing to be left alone in the sitting room with Uncle Lucius. Because this may be his chance to tell her she does not belong here.

So she clings to Draco, he will stop him, she knows.

Draco stands with her, holding her shoulders steady as he makes it past the door with her. He exchanges a knowing look with his father and he, in turn, nods his understanding.

X

Lucius struggles at the sight of his niece by the door. She is back to her Malfoy persona and it shatters him silently that he has driven her to it.

He doesn't know where to start.

She is so clearly afraid of the outcome of this that he can feel her fear in the air. And her magic. She doesn't mean it as a threat, he knows, she can't help but to let some of her powers run wild. He is careful not to show fear. He is not even sure he feels it, there's mostly remorse and guilt in his mind.

He crumbles. Allows himself to lean on the window behind him and then slides down, all the way to the floor. He sits there, wrists perched on his knees, palms out, staring at knots and lines in the wood.

When he raises his eyes to the blonde girl, he is aware of the tears there, he feels it as a couple of them come lingering down his face.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I don't want to hurt you." He is at a loss for words then. How does one convey such sorrow? He hopes his eyes can do it. "I would never send you away. I would never imprison you. I will never hurt you again. You belong here, you are _my_ family too." What else could he say? He doesn't know how to ask for forgiveness, it's not something Malfoys are taught. So he simply pledges himself to her.

He slowly registers the change in the room. Her magic is better contained. She looks like Bellatrix again, he realizes. She nods. She understands.

He has more than half a mind to get up and embrace Delphini, but touching is so foreign to him that he quickly represses the urge. Not to mention he could startle her. So his eyes turn back down.

It's her who moves. _Conquering her fear, just like Narcissa._ Untangling from Draco's arms, she takes careful little steps toward him. Then she takes hold of three fingers of his hand. He turns his ice blue eyes to her, and caresses the tiny hand with his thumb. It's a reassurance. It's a promise. An unbreakable vow.

And her eyes turn steel grey in happiness.

X

The last piece of his puzzle has fallen into place seamlessly. Delphini can control her powers around them, but she needs to trust her ability to do so around others. Before the Ministry officials show up. She has been dreading that day since he told her about their upcoming visit.

He invited the girl she had introduced to him at the Christmas party. It feels like decades ago, but he remembers her, Syrianna Pritchard. He remembers a younger boy in Slytherin by that name, the girl's parents had been older students at Hogwarts, he didn't really know them. But they had agreed to a visit so that the girls could play.

He is sitting with them and Astoria, making conversation, when Delphie and Syri, as they call each other, run into the room overly excited about the possibility of taking brooms outside now that it has stopped raining.

"Absolutely not, Syrianna! You are still grounded for another week." The voice of the father is strict. Surprisingly, Delphini doesn't fight the decision, nor does she look at him with pleading eyes.

The kneazle comes inside at that, rubbing against Delphini's legs.

"Who's that?" Syrianna asks, obviously curious about the almost-cat-looking creature.

"Vicious Mist, my kneazle."

"It is very pretty. Can I call it Misty?"

"Do you wish to be expelliarmed through a wall?" The disdain in her voice is almost palpable. Draco snorts at her reprise. "Vicious Mist will do fine. You may call him Vicious once he shows me that he likes you."

Her Mother would have sent a glare and a jolt of hurtful magic. Her Father would have exerted punishment in an even more painful way. She allows her friend the benefit of a warning.

_She is different._

His little bird is very different. Both from her parents and from what she used to be. Some of the innocence is gone now. She has lost her first feathers in a rather unpleasant and shocking way, but he can tell that what lies beneath the down, growing, is strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews would be extremely appreciated


	27. So Much Like Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the pace for these last few chapters, but I have quite an important exam mid-November and haven't been able to write as much as I'd like to. That being said, I have two more chapters ready that I will be uploading at about ten days intervals, so that I don't create a month long hiatus on this fic. After the exam, I intend on busting my mind and fingers on making up to you. Until then, there will be no more side-pieces, because although I have about half a dozen written, they haven't been edited.As always, reviews are highly appreciated

_April 2005_

She takes to the mirror every now and then. She stays there for hours. Not out of vanity but out of curiosity. It's the red eyes. She keeps trying to bring them forward but can never get them quite right. She is so furious at herself for a moment that her eyes do spark red, just the right shade of crimson she was looking for. She is glad that she can get it right, but immensely puzzled by the way in which she does.

They spark a memory though. She cannot reach it properly or place it, but she remembers that scarlet shine from a long time ago.

Except that red was not angered. Those scarlet eyes she doesn't know who the owner was used to look at her often. And care. That red glare somehow brings forth the memory of being cared for. Maybe her parents kept a red-eyed house-elf. Maybe one of the wizards who fought with them was a _Metamorphmagus_ like her. Or maybe that someone had a magical accident of some sort. Whoever they were, they cared for her, like her family does.

Her thoughts of asking her family about it scatter when something bursts in. Someone actually, and her magic calms down. _Scorpius_. Only Scorpius barges in like that. He has some sort of costume on, some magical creature that did not survive his ventures outside and his broom flying in a single piece. He has a book tucked under his left arm and demands to be read to. And that she makes her hair look silly.

She glares at him for a minute. Then turns her hair bright pink, giggles at his amazement and sits down on the floor, reaching for the book.

Astoria comes in a bit later. Scorpius is to go with his Mother, while she gets ready for her visit to the Ministry. Aunt Cissa follows her inside the room. She is here to help her with her hair, she says.

She knows she is really here to keep her calm. But she does need help with taming her curls anyway.

X

Narcissa loves this ritual of them. After she is dressed, Delphini sits on her bed with her back to her and she combs her curls with soft measured movements. The hairbrush in her right hand used to be Bella's and she had meant for it to be kept in her drawer at her own vanity as a token. But by the time Delphini turned six her curls had gone nearly as wild as her Mother's and she took to using this brush. It was the only brush that could survive Bella's mane, and the frequent tossing at walls. It is now the only brush that can tame her daughter's cascading locks. She suspects it's charmed.

It sooths the both of them. They very seldom talk, simply retreating into their own minds for a while. Narcissa thinks of what could have been, of the little white blond girl she birthed but never saw grow. It was far too soon. She would have dressed her, and combed her hair, and raised her. She never got to those things. She enjoys her second chance all the more for it.

Delphini sits there thinking of a woman with hair just like hers, of how she could be the one taming her wild locks. She cherishes that brush, and likes to follow the house crest engraved in the silver. But she likes best to look at the handle, where her Mother's name is engraved. She has seen Narcissa's brush; her name is engraved there too. She has sensed her Aunt's thoughts too. She feels longing there, missing, and once, just a couple of days ago, had a glimpse of an equal brush with a name she doesn't recognize. Feeling the hurt there, she hasn't asked.

Narcissa rises from the bed, chooses a ribbon from the vanity, and returns to the bed. She holds back her niece's hair, hiding the knot at the nape of her neck so that the porcelain face of the girl is surrounded by her hair and yet clear of it. She asks her to stand when she is finished and admires her prim figure.

Shiny black shoes, white socks that end just beneath her ankles and an aged-pink velvet dress. She knows Delphini would like green better, but she needs her to be the image of innocence today. So she tells her to keep her Mother's necklace under her clothes. The pink softens her immaculate poise just enough that she looks like any little witch.

X

Harry Potter stands in the parlour, waiting. He is the one who granted them the benefit of time before this ill-disguised inspection. Hermione Granger will be expecting them by the fireplaces at the Ministry. She is the one who made sure they would go to the Aurors and not the other way around. They would be inevitably prejudiced by a meeting at Malfoy Manor, and she feared, as they all did, that the wards on the house would raise suspicion. And that they could pick up on traces of her magical outburst just a few weeks ago.

They could not decide on who should go to the Ministry with her. They had come to the conclusion that any of them could be triggered into blasting the place apart altogether should Delphini be under menace. So they are all going. All but Astoria, made to stay behind by Draco. His son is doing what he did all those years ago. Shielding her from it, keeping her in the loop but at bay, so that she is safe should they fall. Lucius is glad that of all the things his son could have learned from him, he learned that particular skill.

When Delphini enters the room, Lucius hears Auror Potter take in a deep breath and then hold it for a while, like he can't believe the girl before him. _They all wonder. They all stare. In that, she is a lot like her Father. She has a way of charming people, of automatically knowing how to conquer them._ He can't help but think back to their first meeting after that day, of how she had shown herself to him, adapting so that she would be accepted and then conquering all. _Her Father's daughter indeed._

He keeps his hand on Delphini's shoulder. He has learned that touching reassures her. That is how he's been building on her trust, by keeping a hand on her back when letting her through a door, by keeping a hand on her shoulder when she conquers some more control over her magic. She has taken to looking up to him at those moments, a small smile on her lips. He finally feels like an Uncle to her. But he hasn't forgiven himself yet.

X

Harry can't believe his eyes. He has not seen this girl since James was born. Draco had been to his house to congratulate him on the birth of Albus and Lily Luna, but not Delphini. There were too many people around for them to risk exposing her.

He is not quite sure of how Hermione managed to keep Ron from bursting into Malfoy Manor. He is still furious at the both of them for not telling him. But Hermione had been stern in telling him that it was handled. He still suspects Ron was put under a spell.

He snaps his mind back to the present. The three Malfoys stand behind Delphini, Lucius' hand is on her shoulder, a clear warning in that gesture. She stands before him with a composure no seven-year-old he has ever met possesses.

She raises her eyes to him, not smiling but somehow greeting him wordlessly. There is something in her, something awkwardly familiar, but he can't put his finger on it. It's not her looks; he supposes this is what Bellatrix Black looked like as a child. It's something to do with her Father, her real Father.

Then Delphini looks up to her family and nods. _That_ is what seems familiar. She is in charge. That nod was her permission; she is telling the Malfoys what to do and when to do it, and they don't seem to notice. She looks back at him now, and there is a slight buzz in his head. He finds himself unable to look away. That is familiar too.

_Can a seven year old be a Legilimens?_ His mind kicks the buzz out. He decides to discuss this later with Malfoy and Hermione. _She may still turn out to be a lot more trouble than a Horcrux._ But it's too late to take his decision back. There's only one way now, and that is forward. So he swallows and stands to the side when Narcissa takes hold of the _Floo Powder_ pot on the mantle.

She takes Delphini's hand and steps into the fireplace, Lucius follows them, and her voice is quite clear "Ministry of Magic!"

"Getting cold feet, Potter? A bit late for that."

"Shut it, Malfoy! Get in here!" He steps inside the fireplace and waits for the Floo to be tossed as he listens to Draco's voice. He doesn't like to be the one doing the talking when it comes to Floo.

X

Hermione is struggling not to show her impatience. She keeps her hands steady on the slight bump at her abdomen. She doesn't doubt her decision to make a case for meeting on Ministry ground, but she can't accurately predict the consequences and the lack of control that implies leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

The Malfoys and Harry suddenly come to the bustling fireplaces at the Ministry. There is quite a crowd awaiting them.

_Not them, her. The girl everyone has been talking about._

Some flashes spark instantly. Rita Skeeter is among the journalists, they couldn't forbid her. Narcissa and Lucius seem to sense her presence, more than actually seeing her. Lucius makes to walk toward her, but it's Narcissa that addresses her, gripping her arm and walking her to a corner. Hermione is surprised, even more when she notices how pale Skeeter has become. Rita raises her hands, showing her palms, then snatches her malevolent quill from the air and proceeds to one of the fireplaces in a hurry. _Good,_ she thinks, _that woman has no business in journalism, let alone in this._

The girl is apparently not fazed by the commotion at all. She nods to Hermione when greeted, and then looks from one wizard and witch to another as they are introduced.

A heavy silence falls with the last introduction. One could hear a pin drop.

"I suppose there is a reason for our presence here. Unless you cancelled it and forgot about telling us."

Her voice is the most un-child-like it can be. Steady, words carefully chosen, and her tone is just right. Unknowingly, she hopes, Delphini has just commanded the better part of the Ministry. _She just got here and is already in charge of the whole thing._ It's like she is playing chess and they are her pawns. She has an eerie feeling that she could beat Ron anytime.

_She has conquered the Ministry. Lord Voldemort's daughter indeed._

They are well on their way down a corridor when she realizes it. She didn't think of Tom Riddle just now. She couldn't help but think of the Dark Lord Voldemort and feel a bit reverent.

_"Are we trying to groom a Dark Lady this time around, Shacklebolt?"_

The memory comes to her. She wasn't there that day, but Harry wanted her to know everything.

_I sure hope not._

But the dread is there.


	28. Inquisition

They enter a large room lit by candles alone. There is a long table, at which they are invited to sit by Shacklebolt. Only a small party of Aurors is allowed inside with them.

Narcissa and Lucius sit at the right of Delphini, Draco takes the chair at her left. Hermione and Harry sit on either side. Everyone else is on the other side of the table, right in front of them. _Sides have been chosen_ , Narcissa realizes, _and now we fight._

Delphini can feel the distrust in the air. The fear. Not really thinking about it, she reaches for her necklace and holds the bird skull tightly. Narcissa hopes no one else noticed it, but an Auror, the same woman who had made the remark about raising a Dark Lady almost seven years ago, is staring intently at the small hand.

"May we see what's in your hand, Miss Lestrange?"

Her niece takes a second to react. She is not used to people addressing her like that. She clings to the bird skull, pressing her hand into her chest. She angles her head, and just for a moment Narcissa fears that she will attempt _Legilimency_ at an experienced Auror. They talked about it plenty of times these past few days, almost brainwashed the girl on the importance of not trying to glimpse into people's thoughts for as long as they were in the Ministry. Especially around Aurors. Delphini doesn't, she is assessing this woman, and she does not find her worthy of her trust.

Before she can hide the necklace back, Narcissa places her hand on Delphini's. "It will be alright, sweetheart", she isn't really sure of it but Delphini must cooperate, "you can show them." Her eyes shift from hers to Draco's and it's only when he nods that she lets go of the pendant.

Backs straighten at that. Both Harry and Hermione have leaned forward so that they can see it too. Hermione's discomfort is all too visible, and her hands hold tight to the arms of her chair. She looks nauseous but holds her composure. Everyone around that table knows that pendant, and they obviously remember it on someone else's neck.

"Really? You came here to convince us once more that this child is not a problem and you put that on her?" There is disgust in the Auror's voice and a scowl in her face. Now she truly is afraid, for if Delphini feels threatened, there's no way her magic won't spark. _This is far too dangerous._

Sensing her unease, Harry Potter comes to her aid.

"It was her Mother's, Myrtle, is it really so wrong to keep a family heirloom? It's all she has. It's sombre, I'll give you that. Do you think the Blacks capable of sweet cuddly gifts? Anyway, we are not here to judge Delphini. This is about safety, not taste." He holds her stare, long enough that the point is made.

Minister Shacklebolt clears his throat. He gestures towards a couple of objects on the table. "Can I call you Delphini?" A shy nod answers him. "I am told you are a _Metamorphmagus_. Would you mind showing us?"

_Wrong move_ , Narcissa thinks. Not five minutes into this and they already want her niece to be something else. She hopes, with all her being, that they won't rile her up into a certain set of eyes. Delphini is clearly not comfortable, but she shows them. Different eye colours, different hair, darker complexions, freckles. A discussion erupts between the people on the opposing side of the table. Of how this proves they can't trust them, that the girl should be taken. Draco roars at the mention of it.

"We agreed to bring Delphini here and that you would be able to ask her to display her magical ability." He talks through his teeth, seething. "We _did not_ agree to you picking her apart like this. She will show you, and then you will leave this room and discuss someplace else. Is that clear?" When no one answers him, Narcissa watches her son take charge. He tells them of Delphini's skill, and she marvels everyone with her control when moving objects, then with the dandelion she keeps floating over her palms, and so on.

Another Auror interrupts and puts a set of drawings before the little witch, asking her to identify what she sees. Most are perfectly normal objects: a broom, a snitch, a book, a cauldron, a dog, but one is disturbing. The Dark Mark.

"This is the scar Draco has, and Uncle Lucius."

"Do you know what it means?"

She brings her gaze up to meet his. She nods. Then her voice, not her poised voice, her true voice, sounds in the room.

"I know about the war. I know what my parents did. I know it was wrong. My family explained it to me after what that woman wrote. I won't be like that, I promise." She takes her green eyes away from him, looking into her lap, where her hands sit. "I just want to stay with them." She whispers. All her composure seems to leave her small body, she is just a girl right now, sitting in a chair that is too big for her, across strangers, and her frailty is evident.

Silence takes hold of the room again.

"Sometimes, I break things with my magic, but I don't mean to. And sometimes, when I'm upset, my hair and my eyes change a lot, I can't really control it. But I never hurt people! I'm not evil." She has raised her head again. Wabby was a house-elf, not a person, so she is not lying; she is just keeping a secret. Like they told her. Like she knows she must.

Narcissa is observing a plain looking witch. She keeps her chin on her thumbs and her eyes on Delphini. She is not using proper _Legilimency_ , she knows, but she seems to be catching thoughts from the air. Draco, being the best _Occlumens_ of them, has taught Delphie for the past few weeks. He didn't say a thing about hiding her mind from others; he simply told her how to keep the memories of a certain day in that deep, deep corner of her, where she locks her magic when she feels like she is losing control. She hopes that is enough to keep the Ministry's _Legilimens_ at bay.

"What is a wizard whose parents are Muggles called?" The stubborn witch is back at it.

"A Muggleborn."

_There you go, happy now?_ Narcissa is sure that is not the answer they expected.

"Do you know another word for them?"

"It's a bad word! You shouldn't make me say it." Delphini is positively outraged at that.

_Touché._ For the first time since her son met Astoria, Narcissa is actually glad her daughter-in-law has a different set of beliefs on blood purity.

X

Draco is in an adjoining room with Delphini now. The others are discussing next door, but there are several silencing spells on both rooms, and so they do not hear a thing. He wasn't going to leave Delphie to await her verdict alone, plus they all know where he stands on the matter. Not to mention that by the end of the meeting he felt on the verge of hexing half the people in the room, so he had stayed with her for good measure. Also, if there is any chance of the decision to take his little bird away being made, he can stand between Delphini and the Aurors. And he can fight. And he will fight, dirty and dark, until he is a mess fallen under a Dementor's Kiss or a dead body on the floor.

His little bird interrupts his thinking.

"Why was the lady with the bushy hair so afraid? When I showed them my necklace, she was really upset."

"Well, your Mother was a fearsome warrior and Hermione, the lady with the bushy hair, fought her hard during the war. It just reminded her." _Delphini has been put through enough_ , he decides. He won't tell her the whole truth just now. Not ever, if he can help it.

She hums her reply and retreats to the inside of her mind. After a while, she looks for his lap, and burrows into his embrace.

By the time the others come to tell them of the decision made, she is a giggling mess, with tear tracks down her cheeks, under a vicious tickle attack. The ribbon in her hair is half-way down and she is pleading for a truce quite loudly. The Aurors drop their jaws at the sight. That is not, most definitely, what they were expecting.

She will stay with them, they both know. Narcissa's smile is all they need now. Details later.

It's time to go home.

Together.

X

_July 28th, 2005_

They have decided to throw Delphini a proper birthday party. Her secret existence is no longer, so there's no reason to keep her birthdays discreet, with only those closest gathering.

What remains of their society as congregated on the gardens at Malfoy Manor. It's not as noticeable as it was that first time after the war, but almost every family bares a scar. A missing father, a mother gone, several grandparents raising the children of war, cousins turned siblings.

And yet, there's happiness. Over two dozen rambunctious children run in and out of the maze, around the bushes, dashing through the lawns. Not mentioning the babies held in their mother's arms, or happily playing in their strollers, all dressed in white to fight the heat.

There's cheerful conversation, too. The whispers and the mourning have given place to a more or less normal life.

There are no Muggleborns, though. Somethings stay the same.

Until someone takes a stand and turns the tables.

"Ah, Potter! There you are. Finally! What took you so long?" Draco walks confidently towards the newcomers. He greets Harry and Ginny, messes with the boys' hairs, as unruly as their Father's, and congratulates them on the pretty ginger baby. Then he moves on to someone behind them.

A ginger wizard, with his left arm around a notoriously pregnant witch and his right arm holding up a little girl of bushy auburn hair.

Lucius and Narcissa have to look twice at that. They both look like they could growl at the arriving guests.

Astoria moves gingerly to their side, holding Scorpius close. She lays a reassuring hand on Narcissa's forearm and quickly explains the need, the most absolute need, for all this. The Ministry decided to keep watch over Delphini and demanded that two Aurors should be report on her a few times a year. Potter and Granger figured they could guarantee that such two Aurors would always be Potter himself and Weasley, so here they are.

"It was Draco's idea to invite the kids. Hermione was coming along anyway, she cares about her too, you know, and she wanted to keep an eye on Ron. Draco figured they could take out the inquisition aspect of this entire thing if he simply invited them, as families."

She takes a breath at the end, as if she needs to catch it, and caresses Scorpius pale hair. _He will be two in just over a_ week, and she can't help but think of the precious creature he is, of how small and fragile he looked when she first saw him. Then she looks to the newcomers and Narcissa recognizes the longing in her daughter-in-law's eyes. The wish for what can never be. The wish for the large family that she cannot give Draco. The wish she used to have for herself and Lucius.

Lucius composes himself. He seems to be assessing the optics of the whole thing. Apparently, he comes to terms with Draco's arrangement, since he walks to greet them himself.

Hermione is quickly by their side, leaving Ron with Harry and Ginny. The Weasleys have decided to keep their distance. The Malfoys don't really blame them.

"I'm sorry, we didn't mean to intrude. It's just that the Aurors have been unbearable, they kept going and going about keeping tabs, and we-"

"It's alright." Narcissa assures her, nodding to Harry in the distance. "You still found out the best way to do it. You're still protecting her, so we thank you." Nothing effusive, but her gratitude is honest. Hermione is responsible for some complicated spell work that keeps Delphini safe, and just used her position in the Ministry for their benefit, which binds the Malfoys to their honour. Smiling truthfully, she asks when she's due.

"Oh, in a month or so, give or take a week." She answers, hands on her round belly. "Late August if we're lucky, so that he or she can go to Hogwarts with Lily, Harry's youngest."

Despite all their efforts, it is all a bit too awkward, so the Potters and the Granger-Weasleys do not stay long. Draco still manages to trace Delphini down to the rose garden, her favourite place outside, and brings her to say goodbye, but they preferred to leave before. Both Hermione and Harry glancing over to their Weasley better-halves and then to each other. Astoria understands that Delphini is not a settled business between neither of the couples, and she explains it to Draco when he shows up, hand in hand with a skipping Delphini.

He is a bit disappointed at it, but can't hide the smile on his mouth later, when they're inside at night and he procures two gifts from the pile, telling Delphini, "Here, from the people who protect you in the Ministry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews would be greatly appreciated
> 
> UPDATE: Oct, 31st Because this is a very meaningful day for us potterheads, I finished a tiny side piece to this "The Guilt of a Mother" that follows this chapter


	29. Pride

 

_March 2006_

She takes a peek into the bedroom. Astoria is sound asleep, her breathing even and deep. Draco is out with Scorpius and the eldest Malfoy couple has left her to her own devices. Her tutor took off early, so this is the perfect chance.

She walks towards the bedside table, as silently as her kneazle. She knows every single board on the floor. She has been stepping on them quietly for years, so as not to wake Scorpius or Astoria, sometimes both. She follows the weird choreography of balancing on her small feet across the floor and over the carpet.

On the table is her prize. Astoria's wand. Left in its usual place. She takes it and dances her way out of the room. She is so quiet that poor Narkey nearly faints when she stumbles upon him on the corridor. The house-elf quickly cracks out of her way. She giggles at the now kneejerk reaction of the elf. She happily makes her way back to her rooms. She has about two hours before her lessons are supposed to be finished and Aunt Cissa comes looking for her, or Uncle Lucius comes to check her work, which means she has one hour and a half with the wand.

Truth is, she tries, and mostly fails, a few spells for about ten minutes before her Uncle's bellowing voice is heard, resonating through the manor. About two minutes earlier, she had blown up a book while trying to levitate it.

_Uh-ooh... Could he know? He didn't see me take it._

"Delphini Black bring yourself and the wand downstairs this very instant!"

_So he knows. How!?_

The manner of acquiring such knowledge quickly falls to the back of her mind, not forgotten, just de-prioritised for the moment. Uncle Lucius didn't call her Lestrange. He called her Black.

_And Black means I'm in trouble, real trouble._

So she ambles downstairs, her crooked "I screwed up" smile on.

_At least my middle name was left out._

There is a stern looking woman in a suit and flowing robes standing in the middle of the sitting room. Her Aunt is looking at her, arms crossed, a scold in her eyes. Her Uncle has his arms behind his back and looks even sterner than the stranger.

"Tell me, young lady, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

"So this is the child. You are old enough to understand rules, if any have been taught to you so far."

The witch actually _interrupted_ her Uncle! No one, that she remembers, ever interrupts him and gets away with it.

Her eyebrows are high on her forehead as she replies, taking the despise in the stranger's voice and throwing it right back.

"I do know what rules are. They include, as far as polite witches go, not interrupting when others talk."

Her Uncle is clearly amused; her Aunt gives her the smallest hint of a smile. But the newcomer is not impressed at all.

"Well, little girl, then you should know wizards and witches under the age of eleven are not allowed the possession of wands, let alone the use of them. You are in contempt of the Ministry's legislation."

Her eyebrows are as close to her hairline as they can possibly be.

"Since this is your first infraction, you, despite who you _are_ , will be let go with a simple warning. Know that the Ministry has a trace on all under aged wizards and witches, and that _we will be aware_ of further incidents. Now, whose wand is it and how did you acquire it?"

She is definitely _not impressed_. Being scolded by a perfect stranger is not something she is used to. A stranger that dares to mention her origins at that. A woman that is actually hinting at the possibility of Delphini _stealing_ something.

"I did not steal it!" The outrage in her voice and the spark of her magic are so clear that the witch takes a step behind.

Her Aunt Narcissa quickly steps in at that. Neither she nor her husband move to shield the Ministry worker. Her Uncle does move in closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. Aunt Narcissa informs the witch that the wand belongs to Astoria, who is probably asleep and didn't even notice it gone.

"Ah yes, Astoria Malfoy. I've heard of her… _malaise_. She lives a rather secluded existence, doesn't she?"

The hand on her shoulder becomes a vicious claw for half a second. She flinches away as Lucius gives her an apologetic look and walks back to the stranger. His hand encircles Narcissa's waist, and his fingers dig in for a moment, relaxing so quickly she would miss it should she blink.

Delphini knows there is another layer to that conversation, and despite it escaping her completely, her hostility is reassured by the actions of her uncle.

"Miss Edgecombe, I believe your mission here is complete. The offending witch has been notified of her wrong doing. As you said, a warning will suffice in this instance. Let us conclude the matter. You can rest assured that she will not be using any wand other than her own in the future."

Miss Edgecombe swallows and shifts on her feet. Being kicked outside in the perfectly polite way of the Malfoys leaves quite an impression.

"Narkey!" Aunt Narcissa waits for a second as the house-elf pops to her side. "Escort Miss Edgecombe back outside."

No good afternoon, a simple nod from both of them is all she has the right to.

"Good afternoon, Miss Edgecombe." Delphini greets as she is leaving, making the witch turn on her steps and trip on her shoes. She doesn't get a reply; the Ministry worker is too busy following the elf out.

"Now, young lady, back to where we left." Her Uncle Lucius keeps his eyebrows high and his eyes stern.

Her hopes of being let off the hook just this once are immediately shattered.

X

When Draco returns to their chambers, a happy boy in his arms, cuddling what she hopes is a kitten, he has a look that carries a cloud.

"I have something for you", he says as he lets Scorpius down on the bed, next to her. She is hugging the giggling boy as Draco extracts a wand from his pocket.

_My wand! How..._

She stares at the bedside table for a couple of seconds, trying to piece the puzzle together.

"Delphini?" She can't help but smile at the notion of what might have happened.

"Yes, Delphini." He takes two fingers to the bridge of his nose while huffing in supposed desperation. He uses the manoeuvre to hide his worry at her so very pale lips. "She tried a couple of spells, which made her trace promptly warn the Department for Underage Use of Magic. If she hadn't blown up that book, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be able to tell it was her... She is downstairs being properly scolded by the tenth time or something. My parents didn't even let her come upstairs to return this and apologize." He can't help but scoff first, and openly laugh as she does. Because she manages to without breaking into uncontrollable coughing.

Scorpius lips spread into a smile of his own, he too knows his Mother is frail and rarely laughs like this.

Astoria heart aches at the thought, but she made her choice. She just hopes to be around long enough to see her boy grow.

"She destroyed a book? Poor Delphie must feel awful about it." She says with a bright smile.

"This is playing with fire, though. I need to talk to her about the Ministry having only so much leeway with us all."

The new kneazle in the house hops around on the bed, chasing the wrinkles on the covers. She keeps her eyes on it as she talks.

"You should go now. Rescue her from all the scolding going on, will you?" She smiles up at him, as he lowers himself to kiss her lightly on her lips.

Her heart aches again. He is never passionate with her, not like he used to. He acts like she is made of the frailest parchment, like she will be blown away by the breeze. She will leave him behind too. This distance harms them both, but maybe, just maybe, it's the distance she needs to let him build. So that he won't suffer when she is gone.

He leaves her with Scorpius, levitating one of his toys onto the bed. "I'll go then" he tells her, as he steps away.

She knows the gesture is supposed not to be noticed by her, but she still catches a glimpse of him turning slightly to look at her over his shoulder. He always does. And his shoulders are always a little lower when the door closes.

She holds her precious baby close, almost as she wants to draw him into her chest. Her failing chest. Spreading pecks on the crown of his head. He never shies or struggles away. _Both my man and my boy know._ She hopes they know how much she wants to stay.

X

He leans on the doorway, laughing quietly at the scene displayed. His parents have been taking turns it seems. Just like they did with him. His Father a wall of ice and his Mother a softer but no less authoritative version.

"I think she understands now. Do you mind if I take her upstairs?"

Delphini displays her best smile, a wondrous thing he fears could win over the entire world. A sample of that, and he is sure Potter and Weasley would be dismissed from their keeping in touch that same instant.

At a sign of his Father, Delphie hops off the sofa and rushes to him, same smile on her face.

"My turn now!" Her smile is gone, replaced by a miserable grimace. He scoffs and messes up her curls. She tries to push him away, but ends up pushing herself into the doorway.

"Aww! That hurt. Stop touching my hair!"

He signals her to follow him, a gentle hand on her back. Instead of climbing the stairs, he sits down on a step and reaches for her hand, bringing her to stand between his feet.

"Delphie, remember that visit to the Ministry about a year ago?" She nods, in all seriousness, and he carries on. "They have some reason to be a bit suspicious about us. You going about breaking the rules of underage use of magic doesn't help much." He could be nicer, go slower, but despite looking like a child, this girl already has a mind well beyond her years. Rationality and blunt truth work better than tip-toeing around a subject, she has a practicality that often reminds him of Granger.

"Sorry, I thought I could keep it a secret. I didn't know about the trace. And I only wanted to try simple spells that wouldn't harm anyone."

So she is only sorry she got caught and thinks _Aguamenti_ is a simple spell... _Oh boy, is she going to be a handful at Hogwarts._ "Let's wait for your letter of acceptance and then you'll have your own wand, hum? How does that sound? Let's keep to their book, shall we?"

"I didn't mean to raise suspicion. I was just curious. I won't use other's wands again, I promise."

And she is fully aware of the importance of lying low, apparently. Well, his point seems to have made itself on her mind. Good.

Those are all the words they need, he knows. She understands that she is endangering their cause by getting the Ministry's attention and she knows how to avoid doing so again. Rules.

He rises and extends his hand. One more thing to do. She doesn't even ask if she has to apologize. She knows her wrongdoing and knows apologizing is the right thing to do.

There's an ache in his chest, as if something is pushing his ribs out and his shoulders up.

Pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me for these last few weeks, even with the more spaced updates. I'll be back in about two weeks time, as soon as I'm past the exam. In the mean time, feel free to review and make suggestions, my plot bunnies are always up for feeding.
> 
> UPDATE:21-11-2017 Guess who is back? New side piece being uploaded right now, to be followed swiftly by a new chapter


	30. Small Things

_Christmas 2006_

For the second time, there is a gift wrapped in festive paper with a dull brown string tied around it. It's the simplest wrapping beneath the tall tree that shimmers in the corner. It's also the most meaningful.

It tells of bridges being built. Not repaired. Built. Something new reaching over a gap centuries old.

A small package, soft looking. A very out-of-place object among the Malfoys' presents. Potter's owl delivered it. It wasn't the only gift that noble looking black and brown owl had carried. But it was the most singular.

It's not from the Potters though. It's not even the first occurrence of its kind. Last year, Draco had spared his parents. He left the gift on Delphini's bed in the morning. This year, he gave them a warning a couple of days ago.

He can't deny even his own feathers were a bit riled up the first time. They still are today, and he supposes the feeling will always linger. It is, all and all, somewhat of a rare astrological alignment. Except it seems this will take place every year from now on.

Scorpius is a happy three-year-old chasing away a fur ball that has gotten considerably larger these past months. Zebra is quite a sidekick to his son. It gets along with the pre-existing kneazle. Not so much with the raven, which has taken to keep its distance.

Delphini is seated on a low cushioned stool close to the fire, her legs crossed on it, nestling Vicious, that she pets absent minded. There have been no more incidents involving wands, though there has been plenty of not-quite-accidental magic. The Ministry has given up on her. As long as she only uses her magic on Malfoy Manor grounds, they have decided to let her. Apparently, Potter pulled a few strings and Granger pulled a couple of old files on what happens to children whose magic is suppressed. Not entirely legal, or right, but fitting the new attitude the Ministry proclaims.

The clock strikes midnight and there is a smile on Delphini's lips. His Father smiles back. He even laughs, wholeheartedly, when his grandson slams into his legs and asks if they can _finally_ open the presents.

Draco looks on as Astoria moves effortlessly towards the tree. There's an absence of weight to his chest, for the first time in years. She is healthy. She has been healthy since the dying summer, out of bed and comfortable armchairs completely. He feels like he is in a dream. His Mother's hand on his arm assures him he is not.

Astoria gathers two gifts from the pile that has been growing for the last week, under the protection of several charms. Otherwise, he suspects, Delphini and Scorpius would already know exactly what they are getting tonight.

They shouldn't be getting their gifts until the morning, but the green-eyed beauty had somehow talked them into letting them stay up until midnight. And since midnight means it's already the 25th... She made sure her cousin was very aware of _that_ part of her scheme, so Scorpius had been terribly excited the whole evening.

"This is for you, Scorpius. And this one is yours, Delphini."

She extends the small mismatched present to the girl's awaiting hands. Delphini makes quick work of the knots and bows and unwraps the colourful paper. Eager, but delicate. Unlike her cousin, who is properly destroying the wrapping of his gift, to the delight of the kneazles.

Delphini pulls a sweater up from the paper. It's knitted wool of the deepest green, fluff and soft. When she turns it, so as to show it to them, there is a cheerful red D in its centre.

"Yay! Look Delphi! I got a scarf!" Scorpius is waving a scarf of green and red in the air.

Well _that_ he wasn't counting on... He looks to Astoria, out of words.

"Molly asked me if it would be alright. The package suffered quite a bit on the journey so I had to take care of it. Sorry I didn't tell you, but I couldn't miss the look on that face." Her smile is so incredibly joyful that he forgets to be angry at her.

His Father looks quite stern, but there is a hint of a smile on his Mother's face, so he figures the matter is set. Or will be, later, in their chambers.

The Malfoys have received clothes from the Weasleys of all people.

 _Hats off for Molly,_ he thinks, as his mind rights those feathers back to their proper place, and his body moves to kiss Astoria, who smiles through it.

X

_May 2007_

"Oh, I completely forgot you two were coming!"

Draco rushes to welcome Harry and Ron inside his office. Their visit was nowhere near his thoughts.

"I'm sorry. Delphini is not even home. I left her with the Pritchards for the week."

Potter smiles, running his hand through his hair. Weasley looks at him in disbelief. Draco laughs openly at that, telling him that he need not worry, they can still have a chat on _those_ armchairs and two fingers of fire whiskey.

"Well then, we drink and you tell us what she's been up to. We’ll tell the Ministry everything is fine anyway." Ron replies with a chuckle.

They have made a habit of these meetings. Sometimes Astoria joins them, although his parents never do.

X

At the Pritchard House, in Yorkshire, two dark haired witches chase each other on brooms over the lawns. Syrianna's mother had warned them about not going too far or too fast, and they had heeded. For the first ten minutes or so.

They are now over the most remote part of the gardens, a maze. Syri's dress catches on the tall bushes and she loses her balance, falling into one of the gravel paths. Delphini gracefully turns her broom in the air and lands next to her.

"It's fine. I'm not hurt." Syrianna says, as she rids herself of the dust and pulls her long silky hair off her face. They decide on making it out of the maze on foot. Picking up the brooms, they lazily make their way out of the maze and back to the house, including a detour so that they walk by the rose bushes Delphini is so fond of.

At some point, Delphini could swear she hears a voice. Turning on her feet, she sees no one. She hears it again.

It's coming from the roses... Under Syri's baffled gaze, she starts pushing branches and flowers aside, careful not to prick her fingers.

"Delphini! There is a snake!" Syri is at her side in a moment, ready to shake the branches so that the serpent drops to the floor. But Delphini stops her.

"No! It's fine. Look, she's tiny. She won't hurt us." Her eyes locked momentarily on the small coiled body and the piercing yellow eyes that seem to watch her carefully.

"I'll tell the elves to get rid of it, then." Syrianna's lips have thinned to a worried line.

"Why? Why can't you just leave the snake live here? It's not like she means harm."

"How do you know? And why is the snake a she?"

"I-I guess I just... well, I don't know." She feels terribly puzzled, but she simply knows that the snake is friendly. And most definitively a she. Delphini keeps those thoughts to herself. "Look, I thought I heard something in the bushes, it's a snake. Mystery solved. Can we just go inside? I'm starving."

Syrianna raises her eyebrows but concedes. As they move away, Delphini could swear she heard something from the bushes again.

"Thhhhank yousss"

She blinks her confusion away. It's probably Nargles in her ears.

X

_September 2007_

"Be careful Delphini! Scorpius is only four!" Narcissa gives her a warning look.

"He knows how to fly, we'll be fine." Delphini looks back to her as if it's the most obvious thing ever. The Malfoys have several Quidditch players in the family, and she figures Delphini has her own reasons to feel comfortable amidst the air, even if she is unaware of them.

"Just the quaffle, Delphie. No snitch. And don't even ask about the bludgers!" Her tone allows for absolutely no pleading. She watches as inky curls and silvery tresses wave in the wind as the children run to the lawn, brooms in hand, to where the box is. Delphini gets the quaffle out while Scorpius leaves the ground, and in an instant they are both in the air, passing the quaffle between them.

In a year, she'll be gone. Just until Christmas she knows, but the separation is heavy on her chest already. She will be alone at Hogwarts, with none of her family to protect her. She decides to shrug such thoughts away for now. There's a whole year to go still.

A whole year to keep Delphini from getting into too much trouble.

A whole year for her to keep dropping a hint of roses on her niece's pillow.

A whole year of piano lessons, of walks in the garden, of birthday parties, and social gatherings.

A whole year of brushing her hair, of picking ribbons and dresses, of reading together by the fireplace, of kissing her cold rosy cheeks when she comes in running from outside in the winter, of sending her off to bathe at the end of the day.

A whole year of scolding her for bringing her pets to the dining room, for scaring the house-elf livid, for using her magic way too much, and for pranking everyone in her reach.

A whole year of goodnight kisses and good morning smiles.

A whole year of the things of love that need no words and yet sound like a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people, happy to be back to this fic. I’ve already uploaded a new side-piece, there’s a couple more that need some more work but that should be ready soon.   
> Concerning the next chapter, guess where Delphini is going? *huge grin* Hint: there’s a red train involved.  
> Don’t forget to review please, your thoughts are always appreciated


	31. Taking Flight

_June 1 st, 2008_

The Manor is awakened by Delphini joyous loudness. There’s profuse laughter coming from the piano room. Then running steps approaching.

“I have my letter! I have it! Can we go buy everything today?” She is hopping before Narcissa the moment she opens the door of her bedroom. “Can we? Can we? I’ll be good, really good. I’ll change my looks so that no one will know it’s me, Aunt Cissa, and I’ll-“

“Hem-hem” A stern look from her Uncle, above Narcissa’s shoulder and she is done with the hopping and the talking. She stands upright, makes sure her bed gown is straight enough, and extends the letter to her Aunt. That earns her a nod from Lucius. She tries to compose her hair, but loose as it was during the night, there isn’t much to be done. That earns her a smile from both her Uncle and her Aunt.

“This came in just now. I’ve been accepted into Hogwarts. I know I only start in September, but I was wondering if we could buy somethings today. Please. Can we go to Olivander’s in the afternoon?” She can’t keep her enthusiasm from leaking through her voice in that last sentence.

_A wand of my own. I’ll have a wand of my own._

She is not even sure her hair is still the same colour, she is so excited.

“We will wait a little longer,” Narcissa answers her, watching the eager smile disappear from her niece’s porcelain face, “and you will have your wand as a birthday present.” The smile is back on. That incredible smile that hurts her heart because there’s so much Bella in it she can hardly bear it. So much Bella in it that she does her best to bring _that_ smile forth anytime she can.

With a date set, Delphini asks for the letter back and takes off running, all propriety forgotten, straight for Draco’s quarters. Narcissa looks on, smiling, as her husband encircles her waist and pulls her closer, back inside. She turns her head to kiss him.

“I just bought us two more months of peace. You need to find something to keep her entertained until then.”

“No good morning then?” He replies, with a smug smile, kissing her back. “I much rather entertains us both for now.”

He shuts the door, taking them both back to warm sheets. Somewhat amused by the fact that his son will have no such chance.

X

_July 28 th, 2008_

Draco can only smile at the sight of bright-eyed Delphini taking in Diagon Alley like she has never been here. She was so excited they nearly had to dose her with a sleeping potion last night. There are witches and wizards walking up and down the street, carrying a multitude of school supplies, accompanied by equally bright-eyed children that read aloud from their letters, naming everything they already have and everything they still need to get. Some are glued to windows bursting with books, others to the sight of future familiars, quite a few to shiny new brooms or perfectly hanging school black robes and cloaks.

Some people are looking, someone always does. Part fear and part admiration, their eyes linger. She delights in it, he knows, but she is now a usual sight around the Malfoys, no need to hide, and, slowly, the world is getting used to her existence.

“Where would you like to start birthday girl? Potion’s supplies, books or wand?”

“Wand! I want my wand!”

_As if anything else was to be expected._

He still doesn’t quite believe they managed to hold her back for nearly two months, and still have a ceiling over their heads. Narkey and Delphini’s tutor have taken the worse of it, he supposes, having been pranked at the very least every other day, in turns. Less than a prank a day has meant, so far, that something big and probably destructive was being thoroughly planned.

X

Olivander raises his eyebrows when they approach the front desk.

“Mr. Malfoy,” he greets, nodding, “I was wondering when I would get to meet Miss Lestrange here.” He greets her with a warm smile. “Let’s see now… what would be fitting…” He lets his words slide into silence as he takes to measuring Delphini, musing over the wands in the shelves.

It takes him a little while. Most wands shy from Delphini’s nature, and the girl says none have felt right in her hand. The old wizard’s eyebrows jump on his forehead, as he mumbles something about having just the right thing. He comes back with a sleek black box, rimmed with silver paint, and carefully extracts a pale wand from deep blue velvet.

“Thirteen inches, yew and a core of dragon heartstring. Flexible enough. Give it a try will you? Just don’t point it at the shelves please, not a day goes by without someone making a mess.”

Delphini takes a moment to adjust her grip, taking in the sight of the carefully sculpted wand, somehow both magnificent and almost menacing looking. Draco cannot help but think that the wand matches her perfectly. A luring exterior bursting with power, a beautiful coat to a strong will. The girl uses her index finger to lightly caress the wood, then points it to the box lid and effortlessly lifts it, turning it in the air, until it’s over the bottom, sliding down.

“Well done, Miss Lestrange! Remarkable show of control. Looks like we have found the right one for you.” There is a smile on his face, but a glint of something akin to worry in his eyes. He is probably wondering just how much the Malfoys have taught her.

She smiles back, putting her wand away in the box, carefully, with reverence, and holding it to her heart.

X

_August 15 th, 2008_

Delphini is pestering Draco about Hogwarts.

And Astoria.

And Lucius.

And her.

Delphini has everything ready, despite the fact that there are still two weeks to go. Her wand is in her trunk, locked until they reach King's Cross Station, for good measure. It took her only three hours, after coming home from Olivander’s, to get another Ministry warning about under aged use of magic. So all of her magical supplies are now safely locked inside her shiny new trunk, with engraved silver initials on the lid.

Delphini sulked at first. She was truly enthusiastic about taking a peek into her books. All but the now mandatory Muggle Studies course book. She did not like reading that piece of information on her niece's Hogwarts letter and Lucius had been properly shocked, but times had changed.

Narcissa sighs at the perspective of dealing with Delphini for the next two weeks. They do need to tell her that she can't take Vicious Mist with her. Looking like a cat and being one are two very different things. She will leave that task to Draco; he got her the kneazle after all. In the meantime, she is trying to convince Harry and Hermione into pulling some strings about the owl permission. Maybe Delphie can take Darkie with her instead.

X

_September 1st, 2008_

Delphini barely slept. Lucius had to give her a stern look to stop her from wearing her school robes before reaching the Hogwarts Express. Now, they stand before the scarlet train. Darkie seems happy, even if he doesn't like being caged, but Delphini bought his acceptance with treats.

Poor Scorpius was dismayed when they told him he couldn't come, but he was running a fever and Astoria was relentless. So it is up to Narcissa, Lucius and Draco to send Delphini off.

Despite the grin on her lips, the girl manages to keep her poise while evaluating her surroundings. The station, the parents, the students. She is secretly seeking familiar faces, people from the gatherings at Malfoy Manor that she can talk to.

She spots Syrianna in the crowd. A quick glance at her Uncle and a simple nod from him and she is off to meet her. She basks in the delight that the whispers bring her. "That's her", "the Lestrange girl", "Mad Witch Lestrange's daughter". She is used to it now; it's a pleasure for her to be recognized. Bellatrix Lestrange is a legend, always next to the Dark Lord but ever standing in her own. They almost never mention her Father, but neither does her family.

_No wonder. He didn't fall in battle. He is rotting in Azkaban._

She should probably regret how few a thought she spares for him, but he was never part of her life, not that she can remember. She should feel bad for not being sorry that he is in a cold, damp cell. But her Mother died for her beliefs and he was caught. He didn’t fight to the very end, only she did.

She snaps her mind back to the station. Her friend is next to her parents, smiling at her. Happiness in her brown kind eyes. The same excitement too.

"Delphini! Are your things on the train already? We should get on now; pick a nice cabin before they are all taken..." Syrianna’s father laughs at that. True to first year spirit, the girls cannot wait to say their goodbyes. They won’t miss their families until later, when they find themselves in strange beds inside a vast castle, with the whole of three months ahead of them.

Draco lowers himself to her eye level. Tells her, once again, that her parents do not determine her future or who she is. That despite what everyone might say, she is not dark, nor evil. She is comforted by his care, by his hug, by his kiss on her forehead. Then he smiles, that smile only the two of them share, the one that means “Be naughty all you want, just don’t get caught. Whatever you do, try not making such a commotion that you will be middle-named. If you do inflict such a commotion, make it memorable, because it better be worth the punishment”. They say absolutely nothing. There is no need. Delphini catches a glint in Draco’s eyes and uses her best don’t-you-dare-glare on him, but he still messes up her curls. She huffs, but smiles.

Lucius looks down on the scene, thinking of how inappropriate that behaviour is. Yet his heart feels warm, even if he can never tell his own son just how proud he is of him. He smiles at Delphini, a truly rare sight, his way of acknowledging his pride of her, and of silently thanking her for Draco’s happiness.

X

Headmistress McGonagall is acutely aware of the girl with the mane of dark curls amongst the batch of new students. She is chatting gleefully with other eleven year olds, the Hogwarts Express still making sure to take long enough for some acquaintances to be made. Her eyes shine in an almost feverish way. This girl was born during the height of war to two of the most dangerous followers of Lord Voldemort. And yet, she is just one more newcomer between these walls, eager to be sorted.

“Delphini Lestrange” Professor Hooch has been reading the first years’ names aloud for the sorting. The Great Hall is riddled with whispers at that one, right after a general gasp.

“Lestrange”

“Her father is locked up in Azkaban”

“…Mad Witch Lestrange daughter…”

“Her parents fought for You-Know-Who…”

“You can say Voldemort!”

“She is evil, just look at her. Landing in Slytherin for sure.”

Delphini merely walks toward the stool, again delighted to already have a reputation.

The Sorting Hat never touches her curls, bellowing “SLYTHERIN!” and then “Wait…” when Professor Hooch makes to move it away.

“Uhh, very interesting… Very, very interesting” the room hears as the Hat prolongs its stay on her head. A whisper in Delphini’s ears adding that although she is as Slytherin as they come, that does not mean her path is determined. Telling her it remembers her parents, and weirdly enough, refering to her as Miss Black. Delphini smiles at that, showing her perfect white teeth and strolling happily and proud toward her housemates. They cheer, loud and long, already taken by the charming girl of the big green eyes. Syrianna is there already, so are the Rothley twins she already knows from the train: Radagast and Freya, of golden hair and dark blue eyes, the perfect matching pair. Others were there too, and others follow. A boy named Sigmund Morton asks to join them on the table, settling down next to Freya, across Delphini.

“So it’s you! I heard of you on the train, but couldn’t find you. Is it true that you’re a Metamorphmagus?”

She turns her eyes the same shade of blue as his, then Rothley blue, then dark brown like Syrianna, and resumes her natural green. He admires her ability. Not like she is a freak creature for his enjoyment but like someone who wishes he could mimic her. He doesn’t ask for the usual stuff her friends already know not to but that others like to. She doesn’t do funny hair colours, nor animal parts, or anything silly. Her abilities are mastered with a purpose, and amusing others is not it. Except for Scorpius, but he’s not just someone. At his look of wonder, and the table’s gasps of admiration, Delphini decides she likes him. Already approved, the others take him in their ranks.

When she is in bed, not much later, tucked beneath shiny green covers, she misses her veil. And her pillow doesn’t smell the same. But then again, she reminds herself, this is not home. This is Hogwarts. And she sleeps with a smile on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, and subscriptions  
> I hope you enjoyed this one, please share your thoughts
> 
> Here's the thing, I'll be taking a ten day vacation starting on the 1st of December, meaning there will be no uploading as I'll be pretty much off-grid. In the meantime, I'll do my best to leave as much writing done and published for the next five days


	32. Her Inheritance

_Hogwarts, November 10 th, 2008_

The first months at Hogwarts are a constant thrill. Delphini wins house points in most classes. She excels at Charms and at Transfiguration, having an instinctive knowledge of the latter. She is one of the few students capable of remaining awake and aware throughout Professor Binns’ never ending monologues on various magical creatures’ rebellions and revolutions. Slughorn has already singled her out, even if he was a bit wary of her at the beginning.

That’s not to say everything is perfect. She does get in trouble. Professor Hooch never tires of warning her during flying lessons, even if she is her best flyer. She has such complete disregard for rules and safety that being threatened with curses by the teacher herself has somehow become the norm.

And then, there’s Muggle Studies. Professor Erskine is a true admirer of Muggle inventiveness, and does have a passion for teaching. But she has to deal with a room filled with Gryffindor students, who keep coming up with ways to charm Muggle technology that always end in mayhem; and Slytherin students, who look on disdainfully for the most part of the class. Delphini doesn’t really care for the subject, and ever since she was paired with a Gryffindor boy, and given the mission to understand and describe the functioning of a point ball pen that ended with blue ink all over her, she has grown to despise it completely.

Minerva McGonagall is highly aware of the issue. Because Delphini Lestrange may be one of the brightest students she has ever met, but she is also the leader of a notorious group of first year Slytherins. They have no ill intentions towards others; they simply enjoy showcasing their superiority by using their wands to prank students left and right. No one ever gets hurt, but she already lost count to the number of times Filch has requested her permission to hang all five of them from the ceiling by their toes.

She can hear the noise of laughter and conversation; letting her know the class is over. As she takes the corner leading to the Muggle Studies classroom, she sees a girl in her House colours mucking off some sort of blue slime from her robes. Miss Lestrange, as well as the Rothley twins and Mr. Morton, all carry the same discreet proud look on their faces, while Miss Pritchard has the decency to look worried by the Headmistress’s presence. They nod to her as they walk on by. Minerva sighs. As usual, everyone suspects, but no one actually saw who did it. If Bellatrix Lestrange knew just how much her daughter looks like the Weasley twins prancing after one of their stunts she would shriek.

X

_Hogwarts, January 5 th, 2009_

She has a ten inches long assignment for Muggle Studies. It’s on the alternatives Muggles have created for transportation. She gets a foot long piece of parchment and writes “ _Let Muggles worry about Muggle world, I have a wand and I will never ride a red bus!_ ” in the largest size she can manage, so that it fills the entire thing. She hands it in the very next class, ahead of schedule.

Two days later, Draco and Astoria are in Headmistress McGonagall’s office when she enters. She was expecting a reprimand and detention, not an intervention, so she can’t help it when her eyebrows reach for her curls.

“I have been discussing the matter of your Muggle Studies _dare_ with your family. This will not be taken lightly, Miss Lestrange.”

She had made that point previously, establishing with Draco and Astoria that she was not judging the girl for her mother, but that such matters were not looked upon kindly by the public. In the aftermath of the war, both a decade ago and yesterday somehow, beliefs towards Muggles have been under heavy scrutiny within the walls of Hogwarts. It was a simple jape, that is clear, but it must not be allowed to progress.

The younger Malfoy couple is keenly aware of the intense fear that the mere prospect of another muggle-hating dark wizard stirs in Wizarding Britain. Even more so since the dark wizard became a witch in people’s imaginaries, no less than a descendant of Bellatrix Lestrange. They posed no objections to disciplinary action, while keeping thoughts of what would happen if McGonagall actually knew the truth secret.

Under the Headmistress’ glare over her square-lensed glasses, Delphini explains that she finds Muggle Studies to be dull, boring, and lacking anything akin to interest. She elaborates a bit too much into her views of the uselessness of the whole subject, as most of the wizarding community keeps some distance between them and the contraptions Muggles have had to create to overcome the “profound insufficiency that is the absence of magic”.

Draco watches as Minerva’s eyebrows shoot up and her lips disappear completely. A shiver makes an icy path down his back.

 “Come on, Delphie… They are not that bad. They are just people without magic. We have explained this to you.” Astoria has an appeasing smile on her lips, but a look that tells her to be careful with her words.

“Have you met Filch? Because he fits that description. Should I write an essay on him? How is he not a bad thing?”

“Enough, Miss Lestrange! I believe you are far too young to comprehend the true meaning of your words. I will leave you here, with your family, in the hope that they can insert some sense into your ideas. I shall come back within the hour, to escort you to Mr. Filch, whom you will shadow every afternoon after your classes, for the remainder of this term. That should be enough to leave some semblance of respect for non-magical work and efforts! I also expect you to understand that Mr. Filch is not a thing but a person. And since you will only have after dinner to work on your assignments, I trust you will learn not to take them as carelessly!”

Nodding her leave to Draco and Astoria, she rises from the engraved chair and abandons her office.

Delphini is left to face an hour long lecture on the reasons for the Wizarding War and the importance on not complying with such ideals. After several explanations that her lack of interest is just that, and means nothing as far as her intentions towards Muggles are concerned, they come to an understanding. She will behave with Filch for as many days as she has to, and carry on with her Muggle Studies assignments in an academically noteworthy fashion. No more provocations, no matter how dull she may find the subject.

When the Headmistress returns, Delphini is already concocting a plan to have Sigmund do most of her homework. After all, his Father is a Muggle. And even if he is as bored as her during classes, he finds it easy to write Professor Erskine’s requested essays. She can trade Muggle Studies for Potions. She knows Transfiguration would be a better offer, but the consequences of being discovered by the Headmistress, and she knows they would be discovered very shortly, are not worth the risk.

She is dismayed by the information that Filch himself awaits her outside. A tiny part of her really wants to jinx the cat the moment she sees Mrs. Norris, but the knowledge that an entire room of old trophies is to be polished by her hands takes that whim away. She now feels like hexing Filch.

Maybe once she has mastered _Obliviating…_

X

_Malfoy Manor, March 20 th, 2009_

The Malfoys share their sitting room with a party of three, two envoys from Gringotts and an Auror.

"There is the matter of Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault. As the heiress, she is entitled to its contents."

The Malfoys trade alarmed looks at that. No one is entirely sure of what “the contents” truly consist of. Nor of what curses may lure there. They didn’t even know the vault was Delphini’s, they had assumed it was taken, just like Rodolphus and the other convicted Death Eaters.

“Well, you see, Madam Lestrange passed before we could seize it, and since there was already a registry of an heir when we tried to, Gringotts would not allow it.”

 _As if anyone would ever manage to part goblins from that much gold_ , Lucius muses.

"The child need not be present, but the Aurors must inspect any artefacts found there. You, as well as one of the goblins, will be witnesses to our actions. Nothing will be taken unless it's deemed connected to the Dark Arts." The Auror tries to assure them, adding that there will also be a curse-breaker present.

"Hem-hem..." The goblin cuts in. "The child's presence will be necessary for the opening of the vault. She must present her wand to us. Once the vault is opened on her behalf, you may take her away."

"We will take care of this over the next summer then." Narcissa determines.

"The Aurors expected to carry on with this matter the coming break-"

"The summer." Lucius simply states, putting the weight of all his ancestry behind the two words. His chin raised. His eyes piercing.

They may have fallen from grace on all fronts, but they are Malfoys. They know their worth and will not bow to anything else than sheer superiority.

The point is made. The date is set. Come July and the vault will be opened for the first time since the war. They can only hope that the magic inside has waned. Faded with the death of its owner and her Master. They remain well aware of the other possibility.

That somehow, his magic lingered, like it still does on her doors and on the veil that watches over her sleep.

X

_Easter Sunday, 2009_

This year, the society has reunited at the Pritchard House. Delphini has teamed up with Syrianna, Radagast and Freya for the egg hunt. They have been running around in the gardens for quite a while now. All the easily spotted eggs have been taken and they are down to the last five or so.

“What if we just get some brooms? It will go faster.” Radagast suggests, looking to his sister with a mischievous smile.

“The rules say nothing of the method of obtaining the eggs…” She laughs.

Syrianna proceeds to smuggle all four of them inside the house and back outside, four old _Cleansweeps_ in hand. They split in pairs and take to the air, among the laughter of the adults and comments that it was only a question of time until someone of this generation thought of brooms.

Once more, Delphini finds herself flying over the maze at the farthest end. She decides to investigate it, but to no avail. She does leave with that unnerving sensation of having heard something.

Back at the Manor, much later, under the soothing veil and curled up in bed, she can’t shake a feeling of unease. She can’t sleep. She has already given up reading. Vicious has tired of her restlessness and retreated to the end of the bed, where only his eyes are visible. She stares at them, as if the yellow there elicits a memory, an important memory, a piece of the puzzle. At Hogwarts, she has become an expert in late night flying, dodging Filch and Peeves, making it quietly out of the sleeping castle with a borrowed broom in hand. Maybe that is what she needs. A bit of wind in her hair to calm her down.

Tiptoeing out of her bedroom and down the stairs, she takes care not to disturb the portraits. Once she is outside, the spring wind dancing through her dressing robe, she takes a moment to breathe in the silence. She likes these quiet, dark nights. Allowing her eyes a few moments to adjust, she mounts her broom and is soon up high.

Observing her from a window, Narcissa can’t help both the smile and the shiver. The smile, the memory of Bellatrix disappearing into the gardens late at night back when they were children. The shiver, the memory of Bellatrix doing the same thing with a much different purpose, time and time again, when they were no longer little girls.

Delphini takes her time, making it much further than she usually does. She is quite certain she is now beyond the grounds of the Manor. She can make the shimmering contour of a stream below her. She lands on the bank, kicking off her shoes to feel the cooling water run over her toes. She shivers at first, and then settles. The cold is never truly uncomfortable to her. It’s one of those things that speak to memories she can’t unearth. Like the smell of smoke, and the red glare in the mirror, and the smell of roses. The latter she missed so much in Hogwarts that her Aunt sent her a vial of essence, kept hidden in her trunk, used only when everyone else is asleep. Soothed, she flies back home, silently making the way to her bed, where she surrenders to slumber completely.

Observing her from the door, Narcissa is soothed too by the peaceful sight of her niece lost to dreams. As she moves to leave, she can hear the hissing. She never forgot it, as they had hoped she would. She simply hopes now, that no one else will ever notice.

X

_Hogwarts, June 26 th, 2009_

The last term flew by. Holding their notices about the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and its consequences should it be broken, a group of first year Slytherins enjoys the sun by the lake, together with older housemates.

Delphini is already thinking of ways of bypassing her trace. She has been reading about it and knows that it can’t pinpoint the origin of magic precisely. She figures she can use her wand about the Manor as far as one of the adults is home.

She has also been practising something else. Aware that _Legilimency_ could be picked up by her teachers, she is steadily improving her passive skills. She doesn’t look into people’s minds, simply tunes in to their thoughts, like reaching and grasping them from the air. It’s hard, but good fun, and kept her busy for most of Muggle Studies. Most students around her are thinking of the Quidditch Cup, the following day. Slytherin versus Gryffindor makes for a promising final. Spirits are high and banter is higher. Gryffindor is the school’s favourite, but everyone knows that skill is on Slytherin’s side this year. A conversation nearby breaks her focus.

“What do you mean your dorm hisses?” An older student, she thinks some cousin of Freya, is asking.

“I’m telling you, Victoria, sometimes at night, the dorm hisses! I mean, Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth, why wouldn’t he charm the dorms to hiss at his students? It’s like singling out those like him-“

“I sleep there too, you know?” Delphini cuts in, “And I have never heard a thing, Freya!”

“It’s not my fault you’re always asleep! I keep waking you, but it stops…”

“Right… Well, just so you know, any waking on the basis of hissing-dormitory-nonsense come second year, and I’ll hex you until you start hissing!”

There’s careless laughter in the air at that. Exams are over, results are not in yet, and the day is bright. Sigmund diverts the conversation to their wager. They are not quite sure how many notices of misbehaviour have made it home, but the five of them tried to keep tally over the year. If anyone gets it right, and manages to still have permission to leave the house, there’s ice cream on everyone else’s to be won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to mess up the usual uploading scheme of things, but my plot bunnies are running full steam and I'm just going with it. Also, longest chapter ever in this fic. Just take this as a lot of setting for things to come. Had to be done, enjoy, leave your thoughts and feed my bunnies if you please
> 
> Update 28/11/2017: There are three new side pieces to this fic (my fingers hurt). You can now find To Placate a Weasley I; Deliverance; and To Placate a Weasley II on the series Companions to Birds become Dragons


	33. The Truth in the Darkness

_Gringotts, July 5 th, 2009_

Delphini admires Gringotts’ hall. Not gasping nor looking up mouth agape. No, that would not be proper. She observes everything, taking in all and any minute details. The engraving on the wood; the play of light cascading down from the glass ceiling; the black and white pattern of the marble floor; the shimmering gold of the lamps upon the dark wood desks; the goblins perked up there, focused solely on the pilling and counting of their riches.

She keeps her steps steady and quiet. There aren’t that many people around yet. It’s early in the morning and it looks like they were the first wizards through the doors. Steps and her Uncle’s cane tapping the floor; the song of coins and gems; quills running unending marathons over parchment. Those are the only sounds she hears. The absence of voices is eerie. Today feels solemn, albeit she does not know why. She knows about Gringotts, but has never been here before. Her family didn't explain much, but there was no deceit and no hiding in their words.

There is a vault that was her Mother’s and is now hers. Her presence is required to open it. Everyone sounded worried when she asked about the vault’s contents. They did not know, and yet, for some reason, they were deeply concerned, almost afraid. She could feel their minds running to old fears, scrambling at the last moment to guard her from such sights. Something evil must be in those memories, something they wish to keep her safe from.

They come to a halt before the desk at the very end. An ugly goblin moves forward to look over the edge of his desk, so that he can observe her.

“Is this the Lestrange heiress?”

“She is.” Her Uncle’s concise answer makes for the first comforting sound of the day.

“Well, Miss Lestrange, I shall require your wand.”

When Delphini takes a step back at the mention of being parted from her wand, Lucius places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, searching for her eyes with his.

“It’s how the goblins certify the identity of wizards and witches requiring admission into their vaults. They won’t take your wand away, Delphini, they will simply take note of it and give it right back.”

There is a note of impatience to her Uncle’s words. Reassured, however, Delphini extracts her pale wand from her robes and extends it, on both hands, like a sacred offering, to the goblin up above.

“Yew, am I right? And dragon heartstring? A powerful wand, I see. Well, well, Miss Lestrange.”

He steps down from his desk, disappearing for a second, only to come back into view right beside Delphini. She notices then just how small the goblin actually is, as she takes her wand back, hiding it away in her robes.

“If you will do me the favour of following me.” The goblin is asking as much as he is ordering them. Although it doesn’t settle well with either of them, they have no choice but to follow him out of the hall, through the golden gates at this end, into a smaller room.

A ginger man smiles at them. His face is badly scarred, as if some huge creature took claws to his face, she thinks. He walks towards them, greeting, as some more people come inside, from a door on the opposing wall.

Delphini isn’t sure of what to do, but the sight of another set of green eyes is calming. Auror Potter, as he is referred to here, takes over the introductions. Besides himself and the ginger man, a curse breaker he says, two more Aurors and two goblins will escort them to the vault.

They split into two groups to board the open carts. Harry makes sure to take the same as Delphini, who is looking quite suspiciously at the contraption.

Lucius is slightly concerned at the glee his niece exhibits through the ride into darkness. She doesn’t make a sound, but the grin in her face is self-evident. She likes speed and wind in her hair, that is rather obvious to anyone who knows her, but the thrill of danger is something she should be too young to like. It’s not like she’s Gryffindor material.

The halt is sudden, and his hair slithers over his shoulders as he huffs his impatience. But she giggles as her curls go over her head and cover her eyes. She uses both her hands to toss them back in a gesture that he saw many, many times in his youth. When he shared the halls of Hogwarts with Bellatrix.

Bellatrix. Hers is the memory that brings his mind back to the present. She is the reason they are here. Her name seems to be the pebble fated to disturb the waters time and time again.

The goblin walks ahead of them, apologizing before picking up a very loud rattling artefact from a shelf and instructing the Aurors to do the same. “The dragon” he justifies.

 _So they got the white dragon back_ , Lucius figures, _or not,_ he adds as a dark and equally blind dragon comes into sight. This one is larger and his scales still shine. His reaction to the noise is the same though.

He concedes himself a moment in this mission he wants to fulfil as quickly as possible. He concedes it so that Delphini can stop and observe. She is mesmerized by the large dark scaly creature unlike anything she has ever seen. It’s not even the most magnificent dragon he has seen. Nor the best exemplar he could show her. This dragon is bruised and battered, flinching under the noise, moving as far away as its chains allow, broken so thoroughly that the prospect of fighting back never emerges on its mind. He is not completely foreign to such a feeling.

But she is still transfixed by the raw power the creature manages to exude. She revels in the presence of something so magical, so powerful, so strong. Lucius looks on as the girl becomes bright eyed, as her smile expands and her body leans forward, as if craving closeness. He watches still when understanding dawns on her and her features change. She is no longer in awe, she has realized just how broken the spirit of this would-be-mighty creature is. Then she comprehends the whole truth. One she has known at heart for a long time but that now becomes evident in the dim light of Gringotts’ belly. Power in itself means nothing. Power requires control to be effective.

Her eyes turn to the goblins accompanying them. There is a spark of red in her glance, too subtle and too fast for others to notice. She loathes what they have done to this beast, almost loathes the beast itself for allowing it, instead of burning them all to a crisp at the first instance. She cannot help, though, to feel some degree of admiration towards the goblins. At how these short, ugly and apparently inferior creatures have managed to rule the will of this animal. She forces that feeling down, deep into her, and takes one last look at the dragon.

There is no reverence in her eyes anymore. No more awe. Only pity.

Lucius is proud of that last look of hers. This girl knows empathy. This girl is capable of caring for other beings outside of her family and tight circle of friends. And that is no small feat when it comes to Lord Voldemort’s daughter.

She starts walking again, and everyone else follows suit.

They stop before a heavy dark metal door, profusely decorated on the outside. Lucius knows that every apparent decoration is in fact a lock, a hinge to be turned on the inside. Delphini moves to touch it, and his hand is immediately on hers, pulling her back, not without tenderness. A slow shake of his head and she takes a step back.

The goblin moves between them and the door, placing his own hand against the cold metal. The noise of everything that turns and slides on the hidden side of the door echoes up and down the corridor. Lucius hopes his pounding heart is not audible. Something else is: the girl’s gasp.

Delphini does not know where to look first. Too many things shine, too many things crave her attention. There are books, and golden things, and jewellery, and velvet pouches and cases, and objects that she cannot name.

Her Uncle’s hand is at her shoulder the same moment it seems, restraining her will to step inside, while puling her away from the door. She can’t see into the vault anymore, but still he moves her away from the door. She knows then that her time here is over. That Mother’s treasures will remain a secret to her.

“Can’t we just-”

“No, Delphini. We are not staying.” His voice is stern and clear, and she knows there will be no arguing. But she is not folding yet.

“Do you think my Mother would leave anything capable of harming me in there?” She doesn’t mean for it to sound like a plea, but it does. So she lets her eyes widen and decides to use it to her full profit.

 _No, my sweet star of darkness. Your Mother would see the world to its end in order to protect you. If only you knew what keeps you from the vault…_ But she does not know and he cannot risk it.

“No, I do not. But our part here is done.”

Her shoulders stand a little lower, she doesn’t look so tall. She even allows a small sigh of disappointment past her lips. She also allows one last question.

“Do you think my Father would?”

He has never tried so hard in his life to keep his face, his whole body, from reacting. Unable to speak, he gives her a look that says enough. Amazingly enough, she drops the subject and starts walking. That is how he knows he didn’t manage to hide everything.

Her mind is alight with the memory of what she could see in the vault. She will come back one day, soon she hopes. There was a dark blue velvet box with a silver _D_ on the lid. Her Mother left her a gift. Her eyes glisten with a new spark.

His mind is deep in thought as they follow one of the goblins back, past the cowering beast, up to the light. He could hear Potter’s voice in the background as they left.

“Careful, Bill. Last time I was in there, the whole thing turned on me.”

_The last time you were in that vault, Potter, you were a thief._

Even so, Lucius trusts him to keep Delphini’s best interests at heart during this inspection. He will know what to take and what to leave. Lucius could not stay behind, nor allow her to stay. He does not know if her Father left spells and wards that would recognize her. If He had left curses that would recognize him.

X

_July 28 th, 2009_

The festivities over, the last guest gone, Delphini lies on top of her bed. It’s late at night and she told her family that she was tired. They all pretended to believe her. She knows that there are some people she simply cannot fool. She doesn’t mind it though. They are family; there is no need for deceit under this roof.

She takes deep breaths, wondering if she can make the clock go any faster. She has been flying to the creek every night. She likes the wind in her face, and the cold water on her feet, and the humming of the leaves high up on the trees. It became a ritual over summer. Something she came to crave. It’s her peaceful place outside; the one she can retreat to when the protection of her veil isn’t enough, when piano notes aren’t enough to soothe her mind. Because her family knows to look for her in her bedroom and by the piano but that place by the water is her secret.

The clock eventually strikes one and she knows her path will be clear now. She runs to her new broomstick, a gift from Draco. The last _Firebolt_ model, the veneer shinning even in the darkness of the slumbering corridors. Vicious follows her steps until her bare feet touch the grass outside. He will either sit here and await her return or meet her by the stream. Darkie likes to fly with her, but never stays. Vicious is too fond of the hunt for that.

She takes her chance to try a few manoeuvres she knows her Aunt and Astoria would never allow and that Draco would cheer for. Then she experiments with speed and finds herself by the stream faster than ever. She sits with her feet in the water, dangling from a rock. Vicious comes to her from the shadows and the bushes, only his yellow eyes are visible for a moment, before his fur comes into the moonlight. He lies beside her, tucked under her arm, as her fingers draw circles on his back.

She sits there until she loses track of time. Her mind keeps dwelling on the contents of the vault. She has brought the matter up twice so far. She wants to go back, she wants that box which she knows is meant for her. But all they tell her is that the Ministry isn’t done yet, for there are too many objects requiring careful investigation in her Mother’s vault. Her vault, she corrects.

Vicious’ audible distress and the rising of his fur startle her. She is up instantly, wand out and at the ready. Keenly aware that this time the Ministry will know if she uses her magic, she makes the decision to use it only if absolutely necessary. Vicious is by her side, growling furiously at something in the bushes.

“Hi will not harm yousss, sschild.”

Vicious makes for the voice, claws out and a paw ready to strike. She stops him at the last instance, crouching down next to the kneazle, and pushing branches aside. A snake that she cannot make the colour of, with slit yellow eyes, turns its head in curiosity. They stare at each other for a few seconds, as Delphini pupils grow larger with understanding.

The snake spoke.

_Snakes speak?_

She understood it.

_I speak snake?_

Vicious lunging forward again breaks the spell, and she moves to hold him with both hands. Reassuring him with soft hands coursing through the riled fur, she moves the kneazle away from the snake. Accepting that Delphini does not feel threatened, he complies. The moment she answers the snake though, he bolts back the way he’d come earlier.

Delphini is puzzled by his reaction, but far more intrigued by the talking snake in front of her.

“Am I dreaming?” She feels like she’s losing her grasp at reality, more and more as the seconds go by.

“No, ssschild, you are not. You hhhhave a rare giffft. Mighty wizards hhhad it before. I’vvve been waiting a long time to sssspeak to you.”

She quickly learns that the snake cannot approach the Manor, but that she doesn’t know why. When she was little, she couldn’t approach her even when she was this far away. She notices that once again she instinctively knows the snake to be a she. She stops listening.

Her mind is connecting dots at the speed of light. This isn’t new. She has been able to hear snakes when no one was before. Another pair of yellow eyes, on a maze.

“Why can’t others hear you?”

She thinks the snake is laughing. She explains that everyone can hear them, but only very few wizards and witches can understand the meaning behind the hissing. Only then does she realize that she has not been talking at all. It isn’t that snakes can talk; it’s that she can hiss. There are no hissing dorms at Hogwarts. She was the one hissing in her sleep.

It’s too much. So much that she gets up, grabs her broom and flies directly to one of her bedroom windows. She sits on the floor, embracing her legs, for what seems like hours. The pain that eventually overcomes the numbness forces her to lie on the bed again.

There’s sunlight coming through the curtains when she manages to finally fall asleep. She is still trying to make sense of things in her mind, but the same thoughts kept creeping up to the front of her mind.

_This can’t be right. Why can’t I be like the others?_

Her only certainty is that this matter is to be kept a secret. She cannot explain it, but she knows that this is not a skill to brag about. There is need for deceit under this roof.

X

The next morning, Narcissa finds her by the piano. She likes to watch her from the doorway.

This dark child of hers likes to play the piano when no one is watching, but likes the nods of approval from others watching even more.

This dark girl of hers likes to enchant things to dance mid-air in front of her, while she is deep in her thoughts, but likes the compliments her skill earns her much more.

She likes to charm people, knowing she can get into their minds and pull some strings. Being well aware that she can do the same with her smile and big wide eyes, and no mind tricks whatsoever. She likes control, more specifically, she likes to be in control.

She is now. Sitting cross legged on the cushioned piano bench, bare feet with toes wrinkling. A swirl of her right hand commanding a blue shiny mist of sorts to spin just above it while her left hand turns another page of an old leather-bound book opened on her lap. The blue mist spins just a little slower when she moves her hand to reach for a glass of iced tea. The glass levitates from the floor into her awaiting hand while the straw moves itself to be aligned with her lips. She takes a couple of sips and sends the glass levitating back to its place on the boards.

Narcissa admires her ability to focus so hard on something she completely shuts off everything else. There is a remembrance there, but she leaves it undisturbed. In normal circumstances, Delphini's mind would have picked up on hers long before she reached the door.

This dark child of hers is different, she knows. She likes the Dark Arts and is curious about them, but there is no power thirstiness in her. She cannot deny that no one finds old and forgotten dark books in the Malfoy library faster than Delphini on a rainy day. But she is truly seeking knowledge, control perhaps, not dominance over others. Not a way to conquer those weaker.

The truth of this dark girl of hers cannot be denied. She and darkness go hand in hand. She seems to find comfort in the dark. She refrains from practising it thoroughly in the Manor, being well aware of the trouble it would cause. But she revels when she succeeds. Her most prized possessions all carry minor curses, Narcissa is sure of it. In the rare occasions she removes the bird skull necklace that was her Mother's, the pendant hums when others approach it. Narkey hasn't been able to touch her hair brush since she came home from Hogwarts. The matter has been discussed with both Lucius and Draco. Everyone has come to agree that her nature is not to be denied. Her hearth is in the right place and they will keep it there, but they will not force her to become someone she is not.

Narcissa decides to break the enchantment that seems to have befallen the room. Delphini is startled by her Aunt's steps, hurriedly closing the book and turning on her seat. She swallows before talking.

"Aunt Cissa. I hadn't noticed you were there."

There is unease about her today, Narcissa notices. She very seldom lets others into her state of mind, and this combined with her previous distraction means something disturbing is on her mind.

"What is it Delphini?" She moves toward the girl, reaching for her chin with one long-fingered hand. She turns her face upwards, so that grey and green can meet. Her question is almost commanding, but she knows her smile will be enough to remove the cutting edge.

"It's nothing." Delphini answers, as she tries to avoid her eyes. Narcissa will have none of it, and keeps hold of her chin as she lowers herself to meet her eyes again.

"I said it's nothing!" There is a true edge in the girl's voice, punctuated by a red glare. She forcibly removes her chin from Narcissa's soft hand.

So she will not tell her what's got her in such a state and the matter is upsetting enough to bring her anger forward. Narcissa knows not to push her further, but the unease now sets within her too. Delphini must have learned something meant to stay secret. And she is not telling.

For the first time since the Battle, Narcissa regrets the web of lies they constructed. They may just be helplessly tangled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello people, sorry it has taken me so long to come back. There was getting home, jetlag, a heavy duty storm and not having electricity for a day, a bit of a writer’s block, and my personal favourite: locking myself out of the house for nearly 48 hours. Brilliant, I know. 
> 
> This chapter turned out to be really long when compared to others, but it may just be the new norm, I don’t know. To the people wishing for Teddy, sorry but I had to delay him by a chapter ;) Else this thing would be over 5k or something


	34. Red and Blue

It takes her three days to work up the nerve to go back. Three whole nights of worrying about what little knowledge she had been able to gather from the books in Malfoy Manor library. There wasn’t much, but what was there drove a stake of fear into her. The only mentions of Parseltongue come from texts on Dark Wizards. Dark, powerful people who caused harm to hundreds in their rises and more during their rules.

She is not evil. And yet she feels like there’s a path for her to walk, willingly or otherwise. Her own kneazle stays just slightly further away from her than what he used to. She has found herself petting Zebra instead, Scorpius’ kneazle, just to quell the need for soft fur under her hands.

She is here tonight, despite all her instincts screaming at her to leave. To forget about being a parselmouth, to forget about the darkness that she likes. She knows that part of her cannot be denied, but maybe, just maybe, she can suppress it. Hide it. If no one knows, no one will think of her as evil from the beginning.

She sits down by the stream. Maybe if she just waits here, the snake will come.

Time goes by, cold sets in, and Delphini decides she will have to call for the snake. She takes a deep breath, swallowing audibly, as a lone tear leaves its track on her right cheek. This is all wrong. She shouldn’t be here; she should never speak Parseltongue ever again.

Except she has to. She needs to know. She needs to hear it from the snake. That there is a way out, another path for her. So she opens her mouth and speaks. Another tear comes down as she realizes this is all so natural to her that her mind doesn’t even register the hissing unless she forces herself to notice.

“Why are you crying, ssschild?”

She stares squarely into the slits amongst the yellow. And confides her worst fears to a reptile.

The snake does not have a name. Apparently only snakes that have been taken by wizards as familiars have names. It’s a human thing, she tells Delphini.

Her fears are not put to rest. Not entirely.

She tells her of great wizards and witches with mighty snakes that reached higher than all other in magical society. She tells her that not that long ago a very powerful wizard who kept an enormous piton lived in the Manor. She has heard the tale of his greatness from other snakes, the story being passed down between them. And of the snake's greatness. Of how she was named Nagini, of how she was so dear to her lord, of how they shared one mind.

But there is some hope in the tales of the snake. All she talks about is greatness, not darkness. So maybe, just maybe, she has a chance. She might just be able to escape that path.

X

_August 15 th, 2009_

Everyone in the Manor noticed her change in behaviour during those last days of July. Everyone wondered about what would cause her such distress, about which of the threads of the web she was about to tear.

But nothing happens. Delphini doesn’t ask about her Mother or the war. The elves remain unharmed. Quidditch matches with Scorpius and Draco carry on as usual. Her friends write and she writes back. She keeps asking about Gringotts and they keep telling her no. The Aurors have been done with the vault for a week now, but none of the Malfoys is comfortable with the notion of taking her back. She eventually drops the subject and their worry deepens. Every bit a Slytherin, they don’t know her motives, no one has a single clue of what is going on, all they do know is that something upsetting drove Delphini to the edge, and that the girl has somehow reined it in. They don’t know which half is more troubling.

The four of them are in the sun room. Lucius has his nose in the _Prophet_ , taking peeks from behind it every now and then to look at his wife and his daughter-in-law, talking away the afternoon while caring for plants with tender hands. Draco started off pretending to read a book, but all he does is stare in adoration at the dark-haired witch.

Peace is over and hell unleashed at the voice of Scorpius.

“Come see! Delphini can fly!”

When four sets of eyes simply glaze over to him, absolutely unimpressed, he opens his arms as if it’s the most ridiculous reaction. He is clearly impressed.

“Without a broomstick! Come on!”

Four sets of pupils grow very, very wide for about two seconds. The next moment, his Mother is stuck to the floor, her eyes darting about, as if putting pieces together in her mind. His Father and his grandparents did the closest to running out of a room he ever saw a Malfoy do.

“Come on, Mum!”

He has the biggest grin in his face as he drags his Mother by the hand, to a corridor where Delphini happily glides back and forth, levitating a whole foot off the floor.

Delphini has the proudest smile she has ever shown. It dims a little at the sight of three very shocked Malfoys and a bewildered one.

“I’ve been practising the levitating charm. I figured out how to levitate both my shoes at the same time.” She turns in the air, showing her hands together behind her back, one holding the other, her wand steady in the right one, pointed at her shoes. She looks over her shoulder, still smiling. She points her wand slightly forward, and they watch her move away from them.

She glides through the air as she turns again and levitates to her family. Scorpius is pretty much hopping with excitement, but everyone else is still staring at her. She lands just before Lucius, looking up to him with her best I’m-sorry-eyes. The only reaction she gets is blinking.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa_? That’s all you used to fly about the house?” Draco takes a long breath out. Then he succumbs to a laughing fit like she has never seen.

Her Uncle looks for support in the closest wall. Steadied by a hand there, he makes her swear to never do it outside the walls of the Manor. Narcissa helps him to the closest seat, looking whiter than fresh snow.

Astoria is the only one capable of congratulating her for her deed.  Draco eventually manages to do the same, in between tears of joy.

“You just scared the soul out of us,” he says as he wipes tears with the backs of his hands, “but that was amazing!”

He embraces her then, kissing the top of her head. “My precious little bird”, she hears him whisper. So she hugs him back, harder than she meant to.

_They wouldn’t like me if I were evil, would they?_

X

_King’s Cross Station, September 1 st, 2009_

This year, the entire family is here to see her off. She has already located her friends, and Radagast has assured them that he has secured a compartment for them. Her belongings are being loaded, broom included.

She finds herself absent minded. She notices Scorpius excitement, the stares the Malfoys and herself earn from the crowd, the polite conversations other wizards engage in with her Uncle, the cordial smiles her Aunt trades with other witches, but it all slides off her mind, nothing sticks today. Yes, she is glad she is going back to Hogwarts. She is also impossibly impatient to get into the library there and learn more about Parseltongue and parselmouths.

She hears the conversations around her, even answers every now and then, but she is nowhere near focused. The snake couldn't tell her much more, but she enjoyed talking to her. She had gone back to the stream almost every single night, calling for the snake sometimes, others just standing with her feet in the cold water, both things assuring her that she has a choice. She has also figured that Nagini must have had red slit eyes. Her Aunt talks of how she was raised in that house from the day she was born. She knows Nagini belonged to Lord Voldemort, even if her family won’t talk about neither of them. She must have very early memories of her eyes, that’s all. The kindness there, however…

A sudden straightness that takes over her Aunt is the thing that finally catches her attention. Narcissa’s eyes have stopped blinking and seem unable to move. Delphini turns around, expecting something truly abnormal, but nothing is. Auror Potter is on the platform, about four carriages down from them. She knows his oldest son is still too young to board the train, so she figures the Ministry sent him. There was only one inspection this past summer, on her birthday. Since it sits pretty much in the middle of the summer holidays; checking on her again just before school starts again doesn’t seem that strange.

Until she sees a blue-haired boy talking to him. This isn’t some excited student asking for a handshake. He does look the right kind of excited to be a first year student. One Harry Potter is clearly very familiar with. It’s her turn to be excited by the prospect of a fellow Metamorphmagus attending Hogwarts with her. Even if he complies with silliness in the form of bizarrely coloured hair.

Then her heart skips a couple of beats. A pale woman combs the blue hair, a mellow smile on her lips and a loving gaze on her eyes. A woman that looks like an older version of her Mother, as she knows her from the picture on the bedside table. She realizes this woman is the reason behind Aunt Narcissa’s stillness. This woman is the owner of that third engraved silver hairbrush she sees in her Aunt’s mind sometimes. Andromeda, it says.

X

Narcissa is well aware her niece is onto her inner turmoil and that the girl has already figured out some measure of it. She hopes the train will leave before she has time to explain.

Their eyes meet and Narcissa has to force every fibre of her body to stay still and not run towards her remaining sister. Andromeda’s expression doesn’t flinch. Perfect indifference for the seconds she looks at her golden-haired sister. A solemn nod of her head before she looks away. One that Narcissa mimics, while her heart sinks to her feet.

She realizes they never really knew her. Bellatrix was always Bella, even to Him. She has been Cissy all her life, except for her husband, who’s been calling her Cissa since fifth year. But Andromeda could be Andy, or Meda, or Dromeda. Ever changing. Ever trying to fit into the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Until that dreadful night Andromeda decided her surname did not fit her.

Andromeda is a Black, after all. Blacks burn people off a tapestry and never rebuild the bridges they scorch. The tie that connected them was severed forty years ago. They stood proudly on opposing sides for decades, never reaching out. Why would they now?

Her sister never comes to her. She will never take a step towards her. True Blacks to the end.

X

Harry Potter is walking towards her family. She is a few steps away, with Syri, Radagast and Reya, as they have come to call her. Sigmund is about a carriage away, desperately trying to get away from his parents before the never ending and embarrassing hugging and kissing starts. Her curiosity gets the best of her when both Draco and Harry look at her simultaneously. She excuses herself and nearly trots to them, before remembering who she is and where she is.

“Who is that boy?” She doesn’t even care about letting Harry realize just how much she wants to know. “Good afternoon, nice to see you here”, she adds quickly, her manners kicking in a bit too late. Between the boy and the woman who looks like her Mother, her mind is all over the place.

Draco nods to him, giving him permission to do something, she understands. He takes a couple of steps to where she stands.

“Care to walk a while with me? You won’t miss the train.”

They walk to the other end of the platform, away from her family, and the woman, and the boy. She hears about the both of them for the first time in her life. By the end, she can’t resent her family for never telling her; neither can she resent the woman and the boy, Andromeda and Teddy she knows now. The war. For the first time, she understands just how much of an answer it is.

But she is not her Mother. She is not a Black and neither is him. They are a Lestrange and a Lupin. Things could change.

X

Delphini can barely hide her enthusiasm. She is trying to come up with an excuse to leave the compartment alone and go look for the boy. She could never admit to her friends that she was eager to meet someone like her. Delphini Lestrange is the girl others want to meet, not the other way around.

She never uses her excuse. The blue-haired boy shows up at the entrance of their booth fifteen minutes into the journey. He pushes the sliding door open and smiles at her.

“I’ve been looking for you! Everyone seems to know who you are. I’m Teddy by the way. Teddy Lupin. We’re cousins.”

He extends his hand; there is nothing but honesty and friendliness in him. So Delphini extends hers too.

“I know. I’m Delphini. I’m sorry about your parents.” Her voice lowers a little at the end. She knows her Mother is to blame for half of it.

“Don’t be. It’s not like we could have done something. I’m sorry about your parents too.” They share a shy smile, oddly similar.

The others don’t leave the compartment, it’s theirs after all, but they sense that Delphini and Teddy have no intention of including them in the conversation. The four of them scoot closer to door, leaving them alone on the opposing seats, closest to the window. They all snort though, when Teddy exhibits his skill by showcasing a complete series of animal appendages, including a pig snout and dog ears. Delphini shakes her head and rolls her eyes at such display, and proceeds to exhibit her skill by mimicking the features of everyone in the booth plus Harry Potter, for the delight of Teddy.

They remain mostly oblivious to the flabbergasted looks of students walking by. The daughter of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, vicious Death Eaters, is making friends with the son of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin, renowned members of the Order of the Phoenix.

He eventually leaves, to grab a snack and find new people to get to know on the train. Delphini tells him to try and stay put in a place so that he can meet other first year students. No doubt his hair caught the attention of some. They will probably be looking for him.

That leaves her mind free to wonder about the past weeks, and Parseltongue, and what the books in Hogwarts may teach her. She eventually forces herself to engage in conversation and leave the matter behind. There is nothing she can do aboard the Hogwarts’ Express.

What they can do is plan ahead. A new year means new chances to create chaos and improve their skill at getting away with it.

X

_Hogwarts, September 1 st, 2009 _

Minerva McGonagall can’t avoid a small sigh of worry. A boy of blue hair, which she met for the first time in the arms of his godfather, is walking gingerly to the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. No concern there. What the rest of the people here have missed completely is the co-conspirator wink he trades with a second year student at Slytherin table.

It looks like the Hogwarts’ Express has been at work again. This time, it mended family ties while building a friendship. And Minerva is sure her year will not be any calmer for it. The only thing in her favour is that they will not - thank Merlin - share any classrooms. There are an awful lot of corridors, though.

X

_September 6 th, 2009_

It’s in every book she has found so far. Every mention of Parseltongue comes with darkness. Dark Arts. Dark Lords. The families of dark wizards and witches. Her gift is one of fear, she understands. Her gift will not be so. It will be her secret, yet another one. Never celebrated, never acknowledged. As rare as it may be, as reverenced as it was centuries before, when it went hand in hand with power, and riches, and blood purity. It’s not truly a gift, it’s a curse.

And for the first time in her life, she is not so proud of her Mother. She is not so proud of her valor in battle, for she sees what she truly left behind. This heavy, grey thing that will always follow her, no matter what, no matter where. For the first time in her life, she understands the true meaning of belonging to the House of Black. The purest of the wizarding kind, the darkest of families, giving rise to the darkest of gifts.

And for the first time in her life, she truly spares a thought for her Father. She is not so ashamed of his imprisonment, for she sees the justice in it. It wasn’t his failure, it is the price he must pay for what he left behind too. Her Mother payed with life. Her Father still does.

She doesn’t know much about him. Her family almost never mentions him. Moreover, she never asks. So she gets up, her books on Parseltongue forgotten, scattered all over the table, and wonders through bookshelves, looking for Azkaban this time.

She learns of the people incarcerated there, of how dark and devious they were. She learns of Dementors and of what they do to the prisoners. Her fear is back. A lot of the people imprisoned were parselmouths. Again, her gift and darkness share common ground and it overwhelms her.

She is utterly unaware of her surroundings when Madam Pince comes for her. She tells her it’s time to go to bed, as she gathers the books, eyebrows rising at the titles.

“Dark themes for your age, don’t you think?”

Delphini hears a gasp from the witch’s lips. She knows her eyes must have turned red for a moment. She needs absolute control of that too. She can feel her magic stirring and she remembers this feeling, this dark thing inside her. She can’t let it happen again, never.

She gets up from the table and storms out of the library. Curfew be damned, she needs to keep away from people right now. She wishes she were home, so that she could fly to the stream and let the water calm her down. She considers getting her broom, but realizes she is far too upset to keep her wits about her in the way she needs to if she means to evade Filch and Peeves.

She decides for the Astronomy Tower. She will look for the stars of her name. She will let the cold wind soothe her, maybe let some tears down. When she feels ready, she will go down to the dungeons once more, let a few drops off a vial hidden at the bottom of her trunk onto her pillow and sleep. Deeply and dreamlessly, she hopes.

She takes her wand out of her robes to light her way, and starts walking through the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone. Last chapter before Christmas. Depending on my bunnies and on my writing tonight and tomorrow, there may be side-pieces uploaded before the next chapter. As always, extremely grateful for your thoughts.
> 
> UPDATE: 24/12/2017 Two more side-pieces have been uploaded: Bring Me a Dream and In the Name of the Father can now be found in the series Companions to Birds become Dragons, parts 10 and 11


	35. Not the First

Irritated by the sound of her own steps, Delphini kicks them off at a wall. She quickly casts a spell on her feet to keep them warm, and gets back to walking down the corridor before her shoes make their way from the floor to her hand. She holds on to her pale wand for a couple of steps, but ends up stowing it away in her robes with a sigh.

She knows she is not focused enough on keeping quiet and it only aggravates her further. She wishes for something she can just blast her way through. Just to vent some of her anger. She is struggling to keep her hair from changing, well aware that her eyes are red already. She has allowed her _Lumos_ to fade, her eyes adjusting to the dark or dim lit corridors. She keeps to the ones less travelled, the ones not even other curfew breaking students like to tread.

The ones with marks and taints on the walls not even magic could remove. The castle has scars of magic so dark and vicious that most people avoid some corridors. She doesn’t. She travels through them with one hand caressing the walls. Some marks still feel warm.

Sometimes, she comes across ghosts here. Old ghosts, and even some new ghosts that the school gained the day of the battle. A nice boy that misses his camera but doesn’t regret staying because this way he can witness everything. He is not here tonight, but she can feel another presence. Someone else is watching her.

_Something else. And it’s not the damned cat._

“Ah, ah! Mad little witch is out of bed, is she not?”

Peeves torments her from the air, hanging upside down from a chandelier covered in webs.

“Go tell Filch, then. Better yet, tell him to bring the cat and I’ll make him a new pair of slippers.”

She can’t bring herself to care at all about the consequences. She doesn.t know where these urges are coming from, but she wants to hurt someone, destroy something. As if sensing her unease tonight, Peeves decides to let Filch sit this one out and torment Delphini to her breaking point. The one where she will be so mad at him, she will give her own position away by screaming back, or attempt to hex him.

Delphini takes a deep breath in and decides to ignore him. She avoids the main stairs, since the blasted poltergeist is making so much noise that the entire castle would be out of bed because of the echo. She treads corridor after corridor until she can’t take the teasing anymore. Peeves is pushing all her buttons at once, bringing her parents up, alternating between mocking the crazy dead one and the probably crazy and locked up one. She knows her eyes are now a dangerous scarlet but she keeps them down, knowing it would only make it worse.

She can feel the dark creature within her stirring in her chest, roaring in her head, clawing at her skin to get out. She needs to keep it under control, but Peeves is making it so very hard. She retrieves her wand from her robes, looking for comfort in its touch, stroking her thumb on the handle, but it immediately comes to life, the heat mounting, leaving her palms searing. She wants him gone, why won’t he just go?

“Come on, mad little witch Lestrange! Got your wand out, did you? As vicious as your mother! Come on then, let’s see what you’re-”

A loud luminous explosion cuts him off. Delphini is trembling in the middle of the corridor, her wand pointed at where the poltergeist floated just a moment ago, panting. There are silent tears coming down her face, from her still red eyes, sobs she won’t allow past her throat. She recognizes the dark veil around her. This time it doesn’t cling to the walls. It clings to her skin, as light silk waving in the breeze would.

She lost control once more. There’s a painful pinch in her memory, as the image of Wabby lying dead on the floor surfaces through the angry fog that occludes all of her thinking. She holds on to that thought in her way back to serenity. She calls the dark beast back under her skin, locking it away in that deep corner of her, from where it should never have escaped.

She gasps; her body forgot to function for a second. Her lungs crave air and her heart is galloping and her mind is running and her eyes won’t settle and her hair won’t stop changing and her wand is still burning. She drops it and the clatter brings her mind back to focus.

A poltergeist is not a living thing, nor is it a ghost, she knows that from Defence Against the Dark Arts. It cannot be killed. She has no idea about what her wand just did. About what _she_ just did. Maybe she vanquished the thing. What she does know is that someone must have heard the commotion. She needs to get away.

Her anger may have found a way out, but her unease is still all there. She turns and runs towards the stairs, climbing higher and higher until the wind whips her hair and the stone under her feet is cooler and slightly wet. She finds a corner to sit down, dropping her shoes and her wand by her side, and curling up her body, hands under her bent knees. She turns her eyes up to the clear night sky and feels them ease back to green. Finally.

The cold and the stars settle her mind just enough. She looks for her family in the sky. She finds her Mother there, and a sob breaks the seal of her mouth. She finds her cousin there too and the sobs subside, giving way to more silent tears. She would give anything to be in his embrace right now. She finds herself up there too.

Alpha Delphini.

She swallows her tears, wondering what she is supposed to be the first of, what she is meant to lead. Her eyes never leave the firmament, as if looking for a star of peace, of ease, some sign to assure her that she is not evil. Not a thing of darkness, in spite of what she has done; in spite of what she is capable of. Maybe she should write home, write to Draco or to Aunt Narcissa, but she knows she will not. She can’t risk telling them of Parseltongue, for she fears what may happen next. What if the Ministry decides to take her away? What if she is expelled? What if they take her wand? What if they decide to exile her from the magical world?

What if her friends deny her? What if Teddy never talks to her again?

What if her family stops loving her? What if Draco never hugs her again? What if she’s never allowed near Scorpius again? What if the Ministry goes after them?

She lets new tears fall, as the wind tousles her hair and her curls whip her cheeks. She needs to settle down and gather herself. She needs to get up and back to the dungeons, and she must do it looking as if nothing has happened. She needs to conceal yet another secret in that innermost place of her mind, of her heart, never allowing it to come to light. No one must know.

Not a gift to boast about, only one to hide.

She picks up her wand from the floor and it doesn’t feel hot anymore. Her magic has settled down. She brings forth a pale blue mist and draws shapes in the air with it. She dries her face with her sleeves, and attempts to comb her hair with her fingers. She must wait a little longer now. Were she to return to the dungeons right away, she would have to explain herself; so she will wait here, amidst wind and starlight, until the others fall asleep.

The sound of shackles dragging on the floor and clanging together drives a shiver down her spine. Could they know already? Could they arrest a student?

A near transparent shape, alight with silver running down its form, comes into view.

Her heart beats again, relieved. The ghost of Slytherin has come to his favourite place. The Bloody Baron is sombre and unfriendly on the best of days, but his manners are always pristine when it comes to students in green-rimmed robes.

“Does the meaning of curfew escape you, young lady?”

 _Unfriendly, but never rude._ Delphini allows herself a little smile.

“No, it does not, my lord,” she raises her eyes to him and proceeds to stand before him, “I apologise for trespassing, but I needed air.”

The eyebrows of the ghost rise slightly on his transparent forehead, and she could swear the Baron actually smiled. He flutters closer to her, with a prelude of metal on stone, towering over her. His hoarse whisper forms words in the space between them, lacking the small clouds of warmth her voice creates.

“You are not trespassing, child, although you are breaking curfew. Peeves came to me,” his eyes seem capable of seeing right through her, but she holds his stare, head held high, “and it seems to me that you have earned his… respect, for lack of a better word.”

For the first time in her life, she does not know what to say, isn’t sure about the best course of action. To lie? The Baron can tell, she is sure. To tell the truth? She is afraid of the consequences it may entail. Realizing the doubt in her eyes, the Baron clears a path for her. Removing her choice too, she can’t help but notice.

“From his tale, I would say you are gifted, Miss Lestrange. It takes a great deal of determination to handle a poltergeist…” He lets his last words linger in the air, inviting her to fill the silence. Giving her a choice, she understands.

She chooses honesty. They are both Slytherins, and will only give as much as they get from the other. She needs something from him, protection and reassurance, so she gives. She tells the Baron that she does not know how she did it, or what her wand did. Letting her fingers slide over the pale yew, she confesses that she meant harm, that she was eager to silence Peeves, albeit not knowing how.

The shimmering ghost entwines his fingers just below his chest, the shackles singing their grim song with every movement. She can feel his curiosity, the way his eyes seem to ask a question to his mind. He angles his head, his gaze travelling from her features, to her wand and then to her eyes. There is a glimmer there, but no words. Until he breaks the silence this time.

“It seems to me you lost control,” she lowers her eyes, acknowledging her fault, “and such would not happen without a cause.”

Another silence, another invitation. She has no explanation to provide him, not without omitting facts. The Bloody Baron wasn’t always a ghost. He once was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. She cannot simply lie to him, but the truth is too dangerous to be spoken.

“Were you gifted, my lord? In a way others weren’t?”

It’s both an answer and a question, and the Baron nods, gathering his hands behind his back. _Peeves was right when he said the girl made a strange sound_. The silver streaks on his clothes shimmer rhythmically, giving away the quiet laughing of the ghost. _So that is how she got those eyes._ He allows his eyes to take in her figure once more, her stance, the proud lift of her chin, the green encircling her pupils that grow wider as he holds her in suspense. _Salazar’s blood lives on_.

“Still am, I’d like to think.” He answers her in the tongue of serpents.

She replies to him in kind, unfazed and not noticing the change in idiom. He wonders about how much the girl knows. There is no deceiving when she calls herself a Lestrange. She is also concerned in a manner in which he never was, not until it was too late. The Baron decides to reassure her. Gifted wizards and witches were made for greatness, he tells her, but that is not to say they are made for darkness. Only a selected few are, he knows. He does not tell her the latter.

Without ever telling him that she is also a parselmouth, Delphini manages to find some comfort in the ghost’s words and leaves the Astronomy Tower feeling lighter. Unburdened somehow. Greatness, not darkness. Like the snake said. There is even a hint of happiness deep inside her, in that cunning corner that believes her secret is not out, that she was capable of fooling the ghost.

It’s not until she is in bed, warm and cosy, after lavishing some attention on Darkie, perched on the canopy of her bed for the night, that she realizes there’s another thing in common between the conversation with the little serpent by the stream and the ghost in the tower.

The tongue she spoke.

The Baron won’t tell anyone, she knows that, but she lost control yet again. In a different way, but lost all the same. She doesn’t have any anger in her anymore. Only disappointment. She needs to learn how to control herself, and her magic, and her gift.

She falls asleep in tears, hugging her pillow close, the scent slowly easing her into a dream. Of stars and serpents, of blood and smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone, but the Festive Season is a tricky one to my writing mojo, plus I’ve started working (first job Yay!!) and I’m still in the process of moving. Basically, real life got in the way. I’ll try and get back to the previous schedule of an update every ten days ;)


	36. A Player

_September 10 th, 2009_

Delphini has been struggling to keep focused during Professor Binn’s endless monologue on the troll wars during the XVI century. She finds herself incapable of taking notes. Syrianna has to look twice to assure herself of what’s going on. Delphini Lestrange is _doodling_.

“What’s the matter with you? You were bitten by a flower during Herbology,” she asks, using her quill to point to an angry boil on Delphini’s left wrist, “and I’m quite sure you haven’t heard a word in the past half an hour.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just not quite awake yet.”

Syrianna receives that with raising eyebrows, but when Delphini answers with a glare, she knows it’s time to let go and retreat. Her friend has a quick temper, she knows. She rules her temper with an iron will, and hardly ever as she lost it in front of her friends, but she can tell this is one of those days they shouldn’t push her.

Delphini is angered at her slip for a moment. She does not allow herself more. She channels her anger into keeping her eyes green and paying attention. She sits straight up again, head held high, her quill dutiful on its way across the parchment. Her notes on the last half of the class are impeccable.

She has a secret to keep. Two actually. She has told her housemates that she simply fell asleep in the library that night and they all take her word for it. She must not falter, for she cannot let others in. Secrets are better kept by a person alone. Her path hasn’t crossed with neither Peeves nor the Bloody Baron since. She trusts the Bloody Baron to keep her secret safe and hold Peeves in check. Merlin knows she has not a clue on how to set the poltergeist back on his proper place.

Her path crosses with her cousin though. She is on her way to Transfiguration as he is leaving the classroom, a wide grin on his face at the sight of her. They chat for a few minutes before taking opposite directions. Teddy is still incredibly excited, and she makes sure he is adjusting nicely to being away from home. But he notices something about her; she can feel the worry on his mind. Her cover is not flawless it seems. He runs back to her from the end of the hallway, stopping a few steps away from her friends. They have learned that Delphini and Teddy have a dynamic of their own, where they do not belong. She closes the gap by approaching him with inquisitive eyes.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I think you need this.” He keeps is voice down, just above a whisper, while he shoves a small package into one of the pockets on her robes. “Harry told me my Father used to say this is the best medicine. You’ll feel better.” He smiles at her and turns before she can thank him.

Delphini walks into Transfiguration under the worried glance of the Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall never looks quite at ease whenever she and Teddy are together, almost as if she is afraid that something out of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes is about to blow up on the corridor. She walks to her usual place, in the front row, with Syrianna at her side. She checks her pocket. She smiles at the present and doesn’t regret that her cover isn’t quite perfect yet.

Chocolate.

X

_September 25 th, 2009_

Delphini’s veneer dries and sticks seamlessly now. No one knows, no one will. The only thing to notice is the slight nod with which the Bloody Baron has taken to greet her. It takes her reputation a bit further. She is not unique in that, but it is a clear distinction amongst those of Slytherin House. It also means people simply assume that is why Peeves turns on himself upon landing eyes on her. It’s a bit of both after all, the reason they imagine and the true one.

There are potions to brew, essays to write, charms to learn and perfect, and it all carries on as usual at Hogwarts.

Well, almost. There have been sightings of a couple of students raising mayhem in the corridors every now and then. A boy and a girl, but that is all everyone seems capable of agreeing on. Sometimes they belong to the same House, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes they fit the description of students several floors away and otherwise accounted for; sometimes they don’t even fit the description of any student in the whole castle. The Headmistress is well aware of the most likely culprits, but they leave no evidence behind, courtesy of Delphini, only laughter and the occasional jape on the wall, courtesy of Teddy. She doesn’t even know how they managed to get their hands on other House’s uniforms. To as much of her desperation as that or Mr. Filch, that keeps scrubbing _“Smile, Mrs. Norris is watching.”_ off the walls, she cannot fairly take action.

There is quite a commotion in the Slytherin Common Room. Classes are over for the week and the first session of the duelling club is about to take place. It goes back centuries, to the foundation of Hogwarts, when Salazar Slytherin himself tutored his pupils secretly in the dungeons, making sure they would be a though match for the other Houses, not to mention a victorious one. The rules have changed quite a bit, of course. First years are not allowed unless they manage to beat a fifth year or above student. Family grimoires have long been banned, on the account of dark and dangerous magic that proved difficult to heal without access to the said family private healing books. Any spell that can cause serious injury is out of the question unless there’s a student with the skills to fix it. Minor injuries are easily treated, and their ever resourceful minds excel at explaining things to Madam Pomfrey in ways that do not earn the entire House detention.

The Prefects excuse themselves from the room, unless they partake. That is the tradition. A partaking Prefect will remove the badge form the robes, and can always tell the school’s healer that he or she was attempting to stop a fight should an injury befall them. One that does not partake will leave the room so as not to soil the serpent badge with disregard for the rules.

Delphini is eager to have a go. Everyone expected her to challenge someone older last year, but they quickly realized that she was not one for brash action. She had no interest in showing what she is capable of. She has read quite a bit on duelling, and trusts her natural ability to make a remarkable first impression. This being the first reunion of the year, the willing second year students are paired up and proceed to eliminate each other. Delphini makes it to the top of the back with ease, dodging spells gracefully, and aiming hexes precisely, almost as if she were dancing. The ones still capable face the older students in following rounds.

The Common Room is alight with magic, amidst laugher, bantering and occasional gasps and cries of pain. Those watching cheer for the favourites and help the defeated up. Delphini manages to beat a third year girl on the account of speed, and a fourth year boy on account of more luck than she would like to recognise. Still, the third match is a seventh year student, Avery, who seems amused by the sight in front of him.

“So you read up on duelling all summer, did you not Delphie?” She doesn’t like being called Delphie on that mocking tone, and her magic stirs, but she keeps it in control. It won’t do to shatter her own veneer. “Let’s see what the bookwormy Slytherin is capable of then.”

She manages a successful _Flipendo_ , and considers _Serpensortia_ for an instant, just before she finds herself flung at a wall and crumbling to the floor. She tosses her hair back, but is incapable of retrieving her wand in due time, distracted as she is by Sigmund falling victim to an _Anteoculatia_ spell. A quick _Expelliarmus_ and her wand is in the left hand of her opponent. She does not like it one bit, it feels like someone just touched her soul and her magic twists inside. And then he pushes her further.

“Ah, bookworm, I think you belong in Ravenclaw after all. You even have that pet raven, don’t you? Maybe you should start considering moving to a tower.” He has a playful smile on his lips, and is actually returning her wand as he speaks, but the feeling of her wand in foreign hands and the insult of those words make the way to her brain before she can remember her manners.

_To imply that a parselmouth like me should be anywhere else but Slytherin House._

“ _Everte Statum!_ ” The spell is out of her mouth before she can think. She aims an _Accio_ at a large portrait filled with medieval not-cheering-anymore wizards behind her target, causing it to come down on him. She uses a bat-bogey hex on him before he can get up, for good measure. “The Rowena Ravenclaw’s symbol is an eagle, you dumb flobberworm! Are you a Hogwarts student or a Muggle?”

Avery manages to aim a _Finite Incantatem_ at his face. Then he points his wand at her, but she is already yelling _Stupefy_ with every ounce of intention in her body. Avery is tossed to the floor across the dungeon again and her magic has never felt so alive inside her.

It’s like she was made for this, for the fight, for the sight of foes falling before her. And it is ravishing and ferocious but a big resounding bell of alarm goes in her head. Her eyes turned red with excitement for a second, she knows, but the others don’t look like they noticed. She needs to get away from them, though. They are impressed, clearly, by her unusual show of skill, but she cannot allow herself to be carried away now.

“I’m sorry.” She forces the words out of her mouth, but they feel wrong. Why should she be sorry for being better, faster, superior? Why should she be sorry for standing her ground in the face of an insult?

“I should go.” She needs air, and isolation, and cold. She summons her broomstick from the dorm and makes for the door the second it touches her hand. She stops running only at the doors of the castle, ignoring all sorts of callings, knowing that she will get in trouble for disregarding the teachers. She mounts her _Firebolt_ and takes off for the heights, not really caring where she is headed.

She is over the Quidditch field when she comes back to her full senses, once the wind and the cold have earned her some peace of mind. It wasn’t the jibe at her expense, she realizes, it was that feeling she thought to have buried long ago. Fear. The fear of not belonging, yet again. Forgotten but somehow ever present. She notices a bright blue shape moving down below.

_Teddy._

She is immediately drawn to him. He is making the most of the last rays of sunshine, playing a disorganized but no less fun game. She sees yellow scarfs, and blue ones, and red ones. They are missing green, it seems. She decides to join the match, descending to meet her cousin.

The game holds. Teddy introduces her to the group and lets her know they need a Beater. If she is game, they can release another set of Bludgers, given there’s about twenty-five players at that point. Quidditch with four Bludgers sounds very enticing indeed, and Delphini finds herself swinging a bat in earnest, swinging away her fear and her worry with every strike at the iron devils.

As she is walking out of the field, laughing whole-heartedly with the other players, while Teddy helps a limping boy in blue and bronze, an older girl in green-trimmed robes approaches her from behind. Delphini is about to explain her behaviour and apologise again, but she’s not allowed.

“Don’t even mention it. What you did in the Common Room was very impressive for a first time dueller. Don’t ever say you’re sorry for beating your enemy in combat. You won, own it. Show mercy if you like, help them off the floor if it pleases you, but _never_ apologise for winning. Anyway, I followed you out of the castle and saw you play. Quidditch try-outs for the Slytherin team are tomorrow, at three o’clock. Be there, we can use a Beater like you.”

The girl takes off without another word. Delphini looks to Teddy, who looks confused.

“What did you do in the Common Room? Why would you apologise for winning?”

“I had a disagreement with Avery.”

“Did you hex him or something?”

“Or something,” she replies with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

She walks with Teddy and the injured boy to the hospital wing, and then takes to the dungeons. She finds the Bloody Baron on the way, who nods solemnly when she greets him.

“Asphodel” she tells the wall, and a passage is revealed.

She steps inside, confident on the outside but secretly fearing the reception she’ll get. There’s a wave of whispering across the room, as heads turn and peek from behind armchairs and sofas. She stands still for a second, feeling the atmosphere, wondering how long it will be before someone brings her Mother up. Sigmund, now free of antlers, emerges from behind a pile of books on a table to greet her. He almost hops on his way to her.

“That was amazing! Why did you leave? Avery’s not even mad at you! Everyone has been saying that they don’t remember a faster student, especially a first time dueller.” His grin is wide and full of mirth.

She realizes then that the whispers were in awe of her skill. Delphini strides across the dungeon, all the way to the windows under the lake, and settles on a dark leather sofa, watching the creatures in the water over her. Sigmund joins her, shrugging his shoulders at the obvious pile of overdue essays, chatting away his excitement. Other students, older students, congratulate her on her skill and she enjoys listening to the thoughts she can pick from the air. Darkie comes flying from the dorms, meaning that Syrianna and her homework are coming.

“Don’t you have work to do, Sig?”

“Ah, come on, Syri! It’s Friday…”

Syrianna opens her mouth to reply, but Delphini cuts her off.

“Sit down, Syri. We’ll work after dinner.”

Radagast and Freya soon join them. Radagast is going on and on endlessly about the Quidditch try-outs the next day. Freya looks like she can’t listen to another word.

“I’ll be there too. Tomorrow. I’ll be a Beater.”

That shuts Radagast up.

She is the lightest player on the field the next day, but the others do not comment on it. Her prowess from the previous day is at the front of everyone’s minds. A bulky fifth year scoffs when she enlists for Beater.

“A snitch would be heavier. You’ll be down soon enough.”

Delphini makes a mental note to knock him off the broom first.

Silence falls over the assembly as the Captain approaches them. She is a tall girl with brown hair and dark eyes. Delphini recognizes her from the day before; she is the one who told her to come. She holds herself a little higher at that.

“Quiet everyone! Chasers get ready, you’re up first. Beaters will be next.”

“We all know I’ll be the new Beater this year, why bother with the try-outs?” The bulky boy snorts.

“Shut it Romulus! I don’t care about size, and I don’t think you can aim.” The Captain winks at Delphini as she turns around to the Chasers. He is most definitely coming off his broom.

X

_Malfoy Manor, November 20 th, 2009_

“Dad, I got a letter from Delphie! Slytherin won the first Quidditch match of the year, 240 to 90!”

Draco smirks. The first game is against Gryffindor. He’ll make sure Potter and Weasley get the news.

“How many players ended up in the hospital wing?”

“Five. Three Gryffindors, a Slytherin and a Ravenclaw. One of the Gryffindors dodged a Bludger at the last second and it hit the stands. Delphini says she hit that one really hard so he was out of it for a while.”

Draco chuckles and Astoria smiles to him. Delphini being let loose on a Quidditch field with a bat in her hands must be driving the other teams mad. She never does anything but excel.

“Did she knock out any of the Gryffindors?” Astoria is delighted by the enthusiasm in Scorpius face, but the thought of the two of them being at Hogwarts at the same time is anything but amusing given how they’re prone to get in trouble together.

“All of them,” Scorpius deadpans, “she got two weeks detention because the last one was after the game was over. Professor Hooch was furious at her.”

Draco lets out a sigh, covering his face with his hands, while Astoria laughs openly. That makes him smile.

X

_Malfoy Manor, December 17 th, 2009_

Delphini has been home for almost a week now, and she is terribly excited by the prospect of traveling abroad in the summer. So he is trying to make her slow down on her now steady rhythm of notices and detentions. They received a total of nine letters from Headmistress McGonagall, and Lucius doesn’t even want to know how many misdeeds she truly managed.

"Well, keep misbehaving and you may be left behind." Lucius voice is stern, but there is laughter in his eyes.

"Can I stay at Hogwarts, then?" Delphini has half a mind to pull something wicked in the Great Hall at that. And her smile is all Bella.

"What? You alone in Hogwarts for the summer? Sorry, little bird, not happening." Narcissa's face is a mask of mild horror.

"Oh come on, Mother!" Draco has a grin on "There's only ghosts and they all died badly. What could she possibly do to them?"

"Is that a challenge?" The wickedness almost sparks off her skin.

"NO!" All four Malfoys answer her.

"Alright, keep your eyebrows on... I won't do anything bad for the purpose of being left behind during summer." She solemnly says, huffing out her disappointment at the end.

"Poor Peeves wouldn't stand a chance!" Draco snorts.

And Delphini is happy at that. They have no idea about the Bloody Baron utmost respect for her after the poltergeist incident. They have no idea about Peeves. Her secret is safe. Both her secrets.

X

_December 27 th, 2009_

Narcissa is once more observing her niece from afar. She has her new green and silver woollen sweater on, and is sitting sideways at the fireplace, on the floor, an absent minded look on her face that tells of deep thoughts. The steam from a hot cup of tea dances over her face, while a spoon idly swirls itself silently. Her pale wand is at her side, obscured by the girl’s shadow, projected long over the floor in the room that only the fire lights.

The sight is enough to elicit memories of her sister and Narcissa’s throat feels constricted for a second. She closes her eyes for that same second, gathering her sorrow and tucking it back to where it belongs. Inside and hidden. Bellatrix used to sit just like that in a house they both called home. She had taken to do it here, in this very same room, after Azkaban. Exposing half her body to the warmth she had come to crave, while leaving the other half in the darkness and the cold she had grown to love.

She lets her memory drift to the rainy days of their last winter together, when Bella would sit sideways at the fireplace holding Delphini close to her, mind lost in the green of her child’s eyes, fingers coursing over black locks. She used to stand afar and watch her sister then. The most peaceful she had ever seen her. They would both be lost to thoughts for a while, until Bella raised her eyes from the green to search for the grey and asked the same question, every single time. _“Isn’t she perfect?”_ While her eyes asked another. _“Will she be enough for Him?”_

And when Narcissa opens her eyes and they focus again, the grey that she almost expected is green and bears a question. Delphini refrains from using unnecessary words around the house. They know her, and do not need them.

“I was just thinking of how much you look like your Mother.”

She walks towards Delphini, caressing her curls when she is close enough, a warm smile on her lips. She knows this little witch could do without words altogether, needing nothing but look into their minds. But she refrains from that too.

_Thankfully._

“What were you thinking of, my sweet star of darkness?”

Delphini leans into her hand at that. Lucius, of all people, coined the endearment she loves the most. She raises her eyes to those of her Aunt and replies.

“I was thinking of Mother.” A lie, and a reply in kind, Narcissa understands. Delphini doesn’t ask and doesn’t pry their minds, but she never misses a lie. “And of the homework I still haven’t finished. I should go get my books and some parchment. There’s a most annoying paper on some Muggle thing to be written”, she finishes with a huff of boredom. That part is very true, and makes Narcissa chuckle.

She combs her curls, attempting to trap a few behind an ear, as she gets up. Narcissa takes the cup from Delphini’s hands and sets it on a low table by the armchair.

“Would you mind if I sat here reading while you work?”

“Of course not, Aunt Cissa. I’ll just be a minute.”

Narcissa moves to the armchair and levitates a book from the bookshelves that cover the walls, all the while watching Delphini leave the room with measured steps that lend a bounce to her curls. For just another second, she could be Bella.

_Can you see her from behind the Veil, Bella? She looks a lot like you._

Delphini ambles down the corridor, with a lightness to her step, despite whatever it was that troubled her. Narcissa revels in that lightness, for she is part of the reason for it. The girl has lightness because of her, because of her unquestionable love and that of her family.

_Remember how you used to worry that she wouldn’t be enough for Him? That she wouldn’t be powerful enough to play her role on His game? She is, Bella, she is. She is plenty. She is summer where He was winter._

Delphini turns over beneath the arch at the end of the corridor, just before taking a corner. Narcissa can see the glint of her green gaze, the happiness there, the very thing that was ever absent from her Father’s eyes.

_Have you seen her, Bella? The girl meant to be His masterpiece. Do you see how she has turned the tables? Not a pawn to be used, not a knight to fight others’ battles, not a king to be cornered. A queen, free to move in her own direction._

_She is perfect, Bella. Perfect._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, reviews feed the author, keep them coming. Sorry I took so long, real life got in the way. The next chapter is pretty much done, it won’t take so long to update, promise.


	37. So Much Like Them

_Hogwarts, February 20 th, 2010_

The Slytherin team flies around the pitch three times, making their housemates cheer louder as they pass them by, and even louder as they pass the Ravenclaw students on the other side. There’s a chant about clawless eagles, but Delphini can’t make out the words amongst the crowd’s yelling. The entirety of Gryffindor House is for Ravenclaw and so are most Hufflepuffs, although there’s a green haired boy in a yellow and black scarf bragging about his cousin being the smallest and yet most effective Beater of all times to a bunch of his friends and anyone who will listen.

Delphini waves Teddy goodbye on her last lap, following the rest of the team to the centre, were they land defiantly right in front of the Ravenclaw team. Professor Hooch is stern in her warning.

“No foul play, I mean it. Keep it clean. I’m talking to you Miss Lestrange. Mr Rothley, the Quaffle is supposed to go through the hoops, the Chaser is not supposed to try and cross the Keeper, am I understood?”

Delphini and Radagast share a devious look between them, while the Captains shake hands, and the teams eye each other suspiciously. Everyone mounts their brooms and is off as soon as Professor Hooch blows the whistle.

Up high, Dorothea, the Captain, approaches them.

“Rothley, you heard Hooch. Play it clean. Delphini, get their players out, just not in the hospital wing. Make sure none of ours end up there too.” She is gone with a wink, catching the Quaffle mid-air and bolting for the hoops.

“AND THAT’S THE FIRST GOAL OF THE MATCH. TEN POINTS FOR SLYTHERIN!”  Delphini hears the booming voice of the Hufflepuff commentator, soon drowned by both the celebration and the booing. “RAVENCLAW BETTER UP ITS GAME OR THIS WILL BE THE SECOND DEFEAT THIS YEAR.”

Minutes become hours, as the Seekers chase each other and lose the Snitch time and time again, the game becoming less chivalrous with every missed opportunity. Delphini dodges one Bludger has she strikes the other as hard as she can, aiming a vicious blow to the head of a Chaser in blue and bronze, knocking him off the broom. He is still on his way down as she sends the other Bludger soaring for their Keeper. She then lunges forward, straight into the Seeker, leaving her team’s Seeker free to chase the Snitch alone. She hears the whistle and knows that ten points are conceded to the Ravenclaws as penalty, but the damage is done. The Slytherin Seeker is a green smudge getting ever higher, hopelessly followed by blue. She can tell that the Snitch is theirs now, but decides to make sure. She flies across the pitch, pushing a Ravenclaw Beater out of her way and sending the Bludger up. She misses her target, but manages to hit the tail of the broom and smiles at the sight of the Ravenclaw Seeker hanging from his broomstick, kicking his feet in the air in an attempt to climb back up.

The chant about eagles without claws is louder now and she can tell there’s a line about birds falling off hoops. She giggles as she protects Dorothea, carrying the Quaffle into the enemy’s side, and diverts the iron ball to an adversary.

“SOMEONE STOP LESTRANGE, THAT GIRL IS GOING TO KILL SOMEONE!” The commentator is losing his wits. “THAT’S ANOTHER TEN POINTS TO SLYTHERIN…” The dismay is almost palpable now. “OH, SHUT UP SNAKES!” The frustration is clear and the Slytherins sing even louder. “TEN POINTS MORE, THIS TIME BY ROTHLEY, WHO IS STILL ATTEMPTING TO MURDER KEEPER LONGSHANKS. GET THE QUAFFLE TO THE OTHER SIDE, FOR MERLIN’S SAKE!” There’s laughter from the stands in green and silver at that, immediately followed by more singing.

“AND SLYTHERIN WINS THE MATCH…” The commentator announces with an unbelieving yelp of despair, as the Slytherin Seeker comes down from the skies and goes around the pitch exhibiting the small golden sphere trapped in his right hand, and the whistle sounds for one last time. The Ravenclaws retreat quickly, helping the fallen Chaser, rubbing sore spots all over their bodies.

Teddy comes running through a wall of green, beating them all to Delphini. He is impossibly excited, his hair going green and blue and pink, yelling that they must get together in the summer to play with the rest of his family. Delphini doesn’t listen to anything else after that. She can see Teddy’s lips moving but she does not register a single sound.

The rest of his family. Because she is part of it too. He is inviting her over, despite his Grandmother not being happy about their closeness.

She is dragged away by the crowd that carries the team on shoulders out of the pitch and into the castle. Slytherin has won two matches in a row and the glee is evident. They’ll celebrate all day, be very loud about the victory during dinner, and then celebrate some more in the dungeons. The creatures in the lake will keep far from the windows tonight, the noise ongoing until Professor Slughorn manages to order them all to their beds, where they won’t sleep much before the sun is out again.

She has breakfast with Teddy on Sunday. Mixing about on weekends has become the norm in the years since the war, and no one minds but the ghosts, who make sure to act insulted at the sight of students from other houses at their tables. Near-Headless Nick challenges the Bloody Baron for a duel every now and then, but the shackled figure simply looks in disdain to him and any trespassers at the table of Slytherin. He will sometimes glare at the students in such a way that they move back to their tables, only to be followed by a few Slytherins. He never drives Teddy away from the table though.

Teddy talks and talks, sometimes mimicking the players as he narrates the game. Delphini laughs whole-heartedly at his impression of the commentator’s voice and loses it completely when Sigmund chokes on pumpkin juice, spilling it all over and driving Radagast to tears at the sight of Freya and Syrianna covered in it.

They are never this mirthful when it’s just the five of them. It’s Teddy. Teddy, who has a way of raising her spirits from the darkest places. Teddy, who has a knack for finding her when she seeks solitude in empty rooms and abandoned corridors. Teddy, who conspires with her over chocolate frogs and pumpkin juice by the kitchens, building on ideas of impersonating other students, coming up with plans to impersonate teachers someday, practising their morphing skills. Teddy, who shares her way of smiling. Teddy, with whom she traded small gifts for Christmas, despite their families.

Teddy, who is her family away from home.

X

_March 13 th, 2010_

Her gaze travels to the Quidditch stadium, where she was some hours ago, cheering for her cousin’s House in a match against Gryffindor, which means the entirety of Slytherin was for the yellow and black players. The Hufflepuff Seeker caught the Snitch, but they still lost for a ten point’s difference, on the account of a timely last goal.

She is up in the Astronomy Tower again. She has decided to embrace Parseltongue and the shackled ghost is the only one she can talk to. It sets her apart after all, it’s the reason for her preferential treatment by the Baron, the reason she’s allowed to be here at this hour.

Her readings on Parseltongue have been diverging into the lives and deeds of those who spoke it. She has been keenly interested on the life of Salazar Slytherin and on the Chamber of Secrets. It was said to be a myth for centuries, as well as the creature that lived in there. Until it was opened during Auror Potter’s time at Hogwarts, and both his wife as that of Auror Weasley were in danger because of the creature. She knows such place exists, even if the beast has long been dead, but has not a clue of its entrance.

That is the real reason she is here tonight. She hopes she can learn it from the Baron. She would have a place of her own here, a place to be away from everyone while securely hidden. Free to practice her magic. Free to be a parselmouth and keep a snake as her familiar there. She has been working on a scheme to get a snake into Hogwarts for some time now. One from the forest may not do, for she needs it to obey her from the very first day, so she will have to bring it from the outside, probably after the summer. But she needs to be able to get into the Chamber before that step.

She touches on the subject, hopefully charmingly enough that she will get a straight answer. The Baron chuckles, rattling his chains. He tells her that she must prove herself worthy of admission by finding it on her own, that he has no doubt her ambition will guide her to it. He also tells her that a ghost child may be of help to her.

_A child ghost? The Baron must mean the boy who misses his camera. Colin something…_

She frowns, lowering her eyes to the cold stone floor, already lost in her thoughts. She is almost certain that Colin was a Gryffindor who died in the Battle of Hogwarts, and doesn’t see how he’ll have any useful information.

She realizes then that she has lost track of her conversation with the Baron, and has no idea how long the silence has been. She looks back to him again, expecting to be scolded by her lack of manners, but finds the ghost studying her, his hands behind his back, that look in his eyes again, as if he were noticing similarities between her and someone else.

 “Do I remind you of someone, my lord?” Delphini’s eyes are curious.

The Bloody Baron hints a smile, or the closest thing he is capable of.

“Oh yes, Miss Black, you do. You look a lot like your Mother.”

_Black, never Lestrange. Just like the Hat did._

She leaves such thoughts fall away from her mind, for she senses unspoken words from the Baron. She tilts her head and looks at him through her eyelashes, beckoning, silently pleading for the rest.

“But you have your Father’s eyes.” He turns and floats away at that. “Goodnight, Miss Black. Try and make it to the dungeons without being noticed, your stunt in Transfiguration costed our House enough points for today.”

“Goodnight, my lord. I will.” She gathers her hands behind her back and starts walking away in the other direction, thinking of the way she made the Gryffindor girls’ maggots turn not into butterflies but huge gangly spiders. And of the veritable screams of horror in the room.

She falls asleep easily after these conversations. The wind, the cold and the hissing make for an unusual but soothing lullaby. She curls up to her rose-smelling pillow and lets herself drift into dreaming of serpents and red eyes, shadows and dark places.

X

_King’s Cross Station, June 30 th, 2010_

The Malfoys look on as Delphini descends from the train, followed by the usual group.

They stop and stand closely together for a few minutes, before going separate ways to their families. She is very much like her Father. Cultivating a carefully selected group of friends, except she actually knows the meaning, and the feeling, of the word. They were not chosen for their family, or for their means. They were chosen out of trust, Draco knows. He holds Scorpius shoulders, smiling to him when he looks to his father asking to be let go of.

“Let your cousin say her goodbyes. You’ll have her for the next two months.”

She is talking to her friends by the train, interrupted by several housemates. She is very much like her Mother. Keeping unwished company at distance with a simple glare, while driving the eyes of the entire platform to her like moths to a flame. They say their goodbyes, promising to write and visit. They all walk away to retrieve their belongings and find their families. But Delphini takes a couple of steps away from the train and stands still again, folding her hands at the front of her grey brocade dress. It’s luxurious and distinct, but sober, like everything she has.

Astoria holds Scorpius back once more when he takes off from under Draco’s hands. She knows Delphini is waiting for someone. One more friend to say goodbye to. It is clear in her letters home. She looks around, chin up, evaluating her surroundings. She is very much like Lucius in that. The disdain and the suspicion of strangers are a bit too evident in her features. She doesn’t believe in blood superiority, but she prefers people who keep their composure to a bunch of excited students running about, jumping back on the train because they forgot something and then dashing back to parents and siblings. She may forget her poise every now and then, but only when she is with those closest to her.

Teddy approaches her. He extends his hand at the end of the conversation, and she takes it. Lucius squeezes his cane for a moment at that, because it still looks foreign to him, despite the subtle insinuation of the handshake into wizarding society. But he recognizes the intention behind his niece’s gesture. She is like Narcissa in this, so very affectionate but never forgetting her manners and the haughtiness that comes naturally. Hugs are private gestures meant for those closest and it wouldn’t do for the cousins to hug each other here.

Narcissa is proud of the way they raised this witch of theirs. Proud of whom Delphini is growing to be. She is a lot like Draco she thinks, in the way she cares for others. Her inner circle is very strict, but once you're in, you're in. She will fight anyone and anything to defend her circle. She loves her family, deeply, and that handshake is a sign to others. Teddy is part of her family too. The entire platform saw it. The two sides of the war, the two remaining children of the blood of Black, who should despise each other on the account of their troubled family, are shaking hands, of all greetings.

She finally moves towards them, and Astoria lets go of Scorpius. Delphini tilts her head with a smirk at the running, but messes her cousin’s hair the second he is by her side, hugging her waist, making all sorts of questions about Hogwarts and Quidditch and the Cup that Slytherin won. She stops for a second, raising her loving eyes to her family, clearly wondering about something. They all worry at the spark there. She gives them that wondrous but extremely rare smile that could win over the world, takes Scorpius hand in hers and turns them around.

She goes back a few steps, calling out for Teddy. She introduces them and both boys seem immediately at ease, talking for a while. Then Teddy gives something to Scorpius and Delphini brings him back by the hand, while Teddy walks to where his grandmother and godfather await.

“Look, Mum, Teddy gave me this!”

Scorpius extends his gift to the family. Delphini notices how Uncle Lucius’ eyebrows go up, utterly unimpressed, and how the others look to her waiting for an explanation.

“It’s chocolate. It means he likes you.”

She is also very different from them. Very much herself and like nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews keep the author writing. If you enjoy it, let me know
> 
> UPDATE 22/01/2018 New side piece up. It can be found in my series Companions to Birds become Dragons, under the name Of the Curse of Ties. it follows this chapter right off the end


	38. Of Serpents and Stars

_July 2010_

They spend the month away at France.

Delphini likes the way they pronounce their names here, how her surname loses the hissing and acquires softer, deeper notes. The way these people roll their tongues when addressing her family. Her own name sounds a bit like a song here.

Being abroad, she is not allowed to practice magic as freely as back home, but they allow her to perform small simple spells that won’t raise any alarms, she can light the candles every now and then, one at a time, she can levitate the flowers they gather into the vases. They know it’s not enough for her, but she seems amiable enough. There’s something enchanting on this side of the Channel that leaves them all at ease. Something that makes them a bit too careless perhaps.

They enjoy the bustling wizarding Paris for a few days and then take to the south. The _Midi_ is charming and sun-drenched. They teach Scorpius how to swim properly in its sea. It’s warmer, and kinder, and a different blue. Even the smell is not the same. The adults can lounge about, indulging in the wine, and the cheese, and the pastry, bathing in the sun while Delphini and Scorpius fight great battles with each other in the water, skirmishes that end up with nothing but foam and sand all over them and tired bodies that sleep soundly and dreamlessly come the moon.

They move on to the Loire Valley, on a floating house charmed to stay unseen by Muggles. They go to land every day, to stretch their legs and vent the children’s energy. They take long walks by the riverside, appreciating the view of the magnificent _châteaux_ that populate the valley. They shop for food at the villages and Narcissa tries her fluent French with yet another accent. On a lazy afternoon, when Scorpius has succumbed to the excitement of the morning and no one can quite be bothered by Delphini’s actions, she wanders away from her family. Decided on some exploration of her own, she meanders through trees into a sunny meadow.

She finds a snake there, about two feet long, with beautiful markings on its grey skin. Two rows of darker markings run across its length, in pairs, joined by a thin line at the middle, that make its skin look marbled. It also looks smooth enough to touch. She decides to simply watch her first, but her curiosity gets the best of her when the snake stops to watch her too. It does not have slit eyes, but round almost warm eyes, with wide black pupils that stare at her. Its dark red tongue tastes the air several times before it decides the girl is curious enough to be hissed at and driven away.

Delphini laughs when the snake’s eyes grow larger when she actually answers its unfriendly “What?” with “Hello”. The snake had heard of people like her before, but that doesn’t dampen its surprise. Delphini decides to take it as a companion in the remainder of her journey. The greyish serpent gladly takes her as companion too.

It likes to travel within her clothes or in the small purse where she carries her wand and the little things she finds here and there. Delphini lets it wander when her family takes her to the villages, and wanders with it when they don’t. She is always slightly afraid of it not being there waiting for her when she comes back. But the snake is always there, day after day, even when they move on from the valley to Normandy, in the north.

By then, the snake has earned a place on Delphini’s bed, tucked between the sheets and the girl. Leaving with the earliest light for the hunt and coming back in the afternoon, to take shelter from the heath. It has also earned itself a name. _Guivre,_ after the local legends of serpentine creatures that prowl the countryside. Guivre likes to keep to himself and doesn’t appreciate loud noises, so he mostly stays away from Scorpius, often seeking refuge in Delphini’s purse during the boy’s excited reports of the day. She has yet another secret to keep, but this one makes her happy and keeps her mind off the magic she cannot use here.

They have a small birthday party at a restaurant for her. The now thirteen years old witch is delighted to receive books on local magical creatures and folklore, and a pair of silver earrings with the tell-tale craftsmanship of goblins, among a myriad of other little presents her family gets her. Guivre is perplexed by the celebration and the fuss, and Delphini gives up on trying to explain it to the snake when he tells her that it’s not like she has shed her first skin and slithers away to a dark corner. She huffs her disappointment but returns to her book, eating _Tarte Tatin_ from a levitating plate. He has been grumpy, and his eyes and skin seem to be fading in colour. His shedding is fast approaching, she learns. Maybe she should offer him something on that day?

She hasn’t figured a way to take a snake inside the Manor so that she can keep it has a familiar. She can’t risk trying to remove the ward that prevents it, because her Uncle will be able to sense the wards of the Manor shifting. Not to mention that messing with wards as ancient as those of old magical manors can go awfully wrong. Some Manors have simply fallen to the ground, some caught fire. There are at least two references to Manors Vanishing entirely, with family members and house-elves included in an instance. So that is out of the question. She won’t risk anyone under that roof. She hopes she can offer her home as a shedding day gift.

With the overseas vacation nearing its end, the Malfoys take an afternoon to visit their ancestral birthplace. The castle from which Armand Malfoy first departed with William the Conqueror. It looks rather small and simple when compared to the Manor, even if it is clearly cared for by someone the Malfoys pay. Her Uncle is proudly teaching Scorpius about his family’s origins and she can’t but wonder about her own. Were the Lestranges not French too? Where was their ancestral seat upon France? Why wasn’t she taken there too? Draco approaches her, with Astoria hanging from his right arm. He is the one who soothes her unseen and untold ache. As if he too could pick thoughts from the air. The Lestranges left France with the Malfoys, but not all of them. The remaining family disappeared from the annals of magical families early in the XV century, when a mighty curse from an infuriated Dark Lord destroyed their palace, while they were still inside. There is nothing to see of the Lestranges anymore.

Delphini does not notice the gulp in Draco’s throat at that last sentence, because she is distracted by Astoria’s distress at the mention of curses that wipe out entire families. It is easy to forget that the Greengrasses carry a curse in their blood these days. What she does notice is Draco’s eyes widening in terror at the sight of movement inside her purse and the way Astoria’s hand clutches his arm when she too sees it.

They do nothing.

Until they are back at the cottage. There, they let an exhausted Scorpius fall asleep before coming to her. Only Draco comes to her bedroom, requesting her presence downstairs. She knows her secret is spilled, but she also knows it will be safe within her family. She puts aside her exemplar of _Magical Beasts of France and Their Lore_ and flings her legs off the bed.

“Guivre, you may be introduced to my family tonight”, she hisses to her purse, “if you don’t mind.”

“Assss long assss the boyssss keepsss quiet…” the purse hisses back. She takes one last look at it over her shoulder, and the tiny nod from the scaly head reassures her. She touches her necklace and pitter-patters barefoot down the stairs.

The Malfoys learn of Guivre, but seem remarkably unfazed by it. Delphini is sitting very properly between her Aunt and Astoria, her eyes darting between her Uncle and Draco, trying to measure their reaction, trying to determine whether or not to she should be worried. She is absolutely baffled that they are not.

“You see, Delphini, you have been speaking Parseltongue in your sleep ever since you were a baby. We all knew,” Delphini registers Aunt Cissa’s voice, but she can’t quite grasp the meaning behind the words, “we never told you because such a gift is usually… well, misunderstood. We did not wish to burden you with worry.”

Delphini’s mouth is slightly agape. Astoria caresses her cheek, telling her not to worry, but that she must be careful not to display her ability publicly. The indignant witch cuts her word short at that and proceeds to inform her family of just how much she already knows about it, and of when and how she learned of her _ability_ , and of just how long she managed to keep a snake hidden throughout their vacation. They chuckle; it figures she would keep a familiar of the serpentine sort secret, it figures that she would not be able to shy from one, sooner or later. They laugh, gleefully, at the mention of her dorm mates’ belief that their room hissed at night. She even gets an approving nod from Uncle Lucius when she tells them that she has placed a silencing charm on her canopy bed to prevent being listened to in her sleep.

Then, she asks the most feared question, the one she herself has no answer to. Why does she possess such a gift? Were there any Blacks or any Lestranges that possessed it too? Narcissa is exceedingly aware of the danger in lying to her niece. The girl can always tell lies from truth. So she does not lie, she manipulates the truth, she presents a rearrangement of the facts, and so her niece does not pick up on it. She believes it.

“You come from two very ancient and very powerful bloodlines that both mingled with that of Salazar Slytherin at some point or another. His gift simply resurfaced in you.” She sounds calm and reassuring to herself, although she has a hard time breathing normally.

One half-truth more that must be told for any hinting at the truth will bring their house of cards crumbling down. One more thread to the web they have been weaving for years. She wonders it her little bird will ever fly through it. Not today, it seems.

Her next question is hardly surprising either. Can she keep it and take it home to the Manor? Will they remove the wards that keep snakes from approaching it?

“Yes, Delphini, I’ll remove that ward. But have you thought about having a snake, a Kneazle and a raven under the same roof?” Uncle Lucius has a smile, an honest full smile, on his face.

“They all bite, two have claws, one can run, one can fly… they’ll figure it out.” She tells them, counting facts on her fingers. She gives them that wondrous smile and they know there is nothing they can say to change her mind now. The only thing they ask is that she is careful not to let Scorpius know for now.

On August 1st, they cross the Channel back home. Delphini is happy with the weight of Guivre in her robes. The Customs’ wizard is a bit baffled by a shed snake skin in her purse, but she flashes her wide green heavy lidded glaze at him, batting her long dark eyelashes, complete with her best pretty-please-smile, and he chucks it to thirteen year olds being thirteen year olds.

X

_Malfoy Manor, August 17 th, 2010_

Delphini closes her notebook and huffs. She has been writing down anything of interest to the location of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, in hopes that having all of the information in the same place will help her think. It is not working.

She tracked down Colin Creevey after the advice from the Baron, but all he could tell her was about the beast that lived in the Chamber. And it had taken quite a lot of convincing. He had been petrified for weeks after encountering the Basilisk in a corridor, like Mrs. Granger. She actually considered asking her about her experience with the Basilisk during the gathering at Scorpius seventh birthday, but such thoughts were quickly dismissed. She has no plausible reason to offer in exchange of the questions she would get. She has hit a dead-end it seems.

But today, she will put all of those troubles in a box and tuck it away until tomorrow. Today, she will go into the Muggle world for the first time ever. Her Uncle and Aunt have been quite concerned for days now, after she managed to get permission. Draco and Astoria did their share of convincing too, albeit even more concerned, she suspects. So today, they will Floo her to Diagon Alley, where she will meet with her friends. Sigmund, having a Muggle father and living in Muggle London, will be their guide.

They quickly regret it.

The novelty is quickly pushed to the backs of their minds at the noise, and the confusion, and the lights, and the traffic. Sigmund makes an executive decision to get them to his house as soon as possible, before one of them flips on a Muggle that happens to get too close. He gives them a short and to the point lecture about the Muggle underground. They all know about it from their classes on Muggle Studies, but theory and practice are two very different things and he would rather not be stuck with four flabbergasted and on hedge friends in a train filled with Muggles to the brim. He makes sure they understand personal space is not a thing down there and how to use their tickets to get in and out of the station. He feels like he has achieved quite the title of Muggle liaison by the time he gets all four of them into his apartment. He lets the sentiment that nothing could go wrong win him over.

He quickly regrets it.

X

"There was no need for you to be that violent!"

"But it was making weird noises! I thought it was in pain or something."

Sigmund doesn't have time to explain the absolute innocence of the now broken phone to Delphini. Judging from the sound, there is clear distress in the kitchen. Then the shuffling changes to banging, and he takes off running down the corridor, while cursing himself for being an idiot. Barely making the turn at the door, he comes to a wet murder scene.

There is water apparently everywhere. And bits and pieces of yellow plastic across the floor. Radagast is holding a pan high above his head, a look of fear on his eyes, panting like he's just ran a mile.

"What was that!? Why would you leave us alone with that thing? You know we can't use magic out of Hogwarts, let alone in a building full of Muggles!" He is absolutely indignant. And clearly terrified.

"How should I know what it is when you smashed it to pieces?" Then realization strikes. _The kettle._ The electrical kettle he had put on a couple of minutes ago. He can't help but laugh.

Radagast is furious. Freya is completely baffled, still sitting on the kitchen table, keeping her feet high off the floor.

"That thing was spitting boiling water at us, making noises and flashing a red light... It burned Reya! I had to do something. WILL YOU STOP LAUGHING?"

Sigmund laughs louder, tears careening down his face. He is in for a rough patch, explaining this to his parents, but this is glorious. The twins afraid of a kettle! Delphini freaked out by a telephone! His laughter gets even louder.

Then a veritable shriek comes from the living room. Syrianna is panicking over people stuck fighting in a box. And Sigmund crumbles to the floor, laughing until he can't breathe. He doesn't even hear it when the front door opens.

"Sigmund! What did I tell you to do before you bring your friends around? Your Father goes a long way trying to accommodate magic into his life. Having to buy things like phones and electrical appliances every other wizarding visit doesn't help!"

His mother shows up at the kitchen door, hugging a clearly traumatized Syrianna. Delphini follows her, making sure not to touch anything. He is still giggling, trying to see through the tears. His mother smiles at the scene, Radagast is still holding the pan up high and Freya has moved to embrace her legs on the table. She takes charge.

"Off the table, young lady. Put that down before you hurt someone. Now sit down and stay put while I get you something to eat." She waves her wand in a series of delicate movements. A very normal looking kettle is on the stove at that, while a line of dishes comes flying from a shelf to the table, quickly followed by a biscuit can. Then there are cups filled to the brim with hot tea and milk sliding towards the group of teenagers. "Sugar anyone?" She asks as she takes her place. "You had quite an introduction to Muggle reality. Just drink your tea, you’ll feel better."

"I was thinking of introducing them to automated doors next."

"You do that Sigmund, and I'll tell the Ministry you did it when your friends are done destroying the place." She says that without raising her eyes from the tea. "Get up and get some chocolate."

"You could just summon-" He doesn't dare finish the sentence under his mother's glare.

X

_Hogwarts, September 2 nd, 2010_

“Professor Longbottom, how should I clip these leaves off?” Delphini’s clear voice sounds in the greenhouse. It is her first Herbology class of the year and her delicate fingers and measured movements have been handling the temperamental plant just fine. She doesn’t need help, not really. But that is not the purpose of this exercise.

Neville looks down the table to where she stands. There is an eager little smile on her face. Her eyes are different, her features have subtle differences, and her curls, though wild, seem softer. Still, the image of her mother is the first thing that comes to his mind. _“How are mom and dad?”_ he hears in his mind too, followed by a signature cackle that struck fear in all who heard it.

 _Snap out of it! You’ve known this girl for two full school years now. She is not her mother, she isn’t even evil. She is a prankster at best._ He takes a deep breath and answers her question.

“You do not touch the plant at all. We need the smallest leaves and she will curl them up shut if touched. Move your scissors very carefully to the right place, just behind the stem, and snap them quickly, with purpose. Catch the leave in your hand, don’t try to pluck it!” Delphini holds her pale long fingers under a red tiny leaf and clips it cleanly off. The plant curls up all of its other leaves for a couple seconds, but that one drops to the girl’s palm.

“Perfect, Miss Lestrange!” The name feels weird on his tongue every time he praises her, and praising the green eyed witch happens often in his greenhouses. “Five points to Slytherin for that. Take notice everyone, expect full marks if you can gather ten leaves by the end of the period. Careful Mr. Morton, she bites you know?” And just like that, his mind is elsewhere.

Delphini walks up to his desk while the others pack their belongings. She hands him a small jar full of tiny red leaves. “I managed to get a few more; I figured you could use them for your stock.”

“Oh, well done… uh…” That smirk freezes his mind for a minute. “Well, considering how my stock is already up to capacity after today’s lesson, would you mind taking the jar to Professor Slughorn? He asked me for some, for a Potions class. I’m sure it will get you a couple more points.”

“Of course, Professor Longbottom. Thank you for your assistance. I’ll be on my way then.” She moves back to her work station, packs the jar along with her things and walks toward the glass door. Her fellow Slytherins await her there. Neville swallows hard at the sight of her curls in the wind. At the way her classmates wait for her and then give her a sort of precedence as they walk back to the castle. He thinks back to her pale slender hands and cannot help but think them familiar.

Delphini could feel his troubled thoughts, she could almost hear them. She knows that she can get her Restricted Section book permits from the Herbology teacher too, then. Her mother left quite an impression on the man. Slughorn makes two. Trelawney is next then. She doesn’t expect much from Divination, but there are all sorts of sketchy subjects she can use as an excuse to get her hands on some much desired books.

X

“So you have chosen to study Divination…” Sybill Trelawney gasps for air the moment she lays eyes on her. She made sure to sit on the low tables at the front. She was planning to act very interested, while exchanging snarky remarks about the crazed teacher with Reya, under Syrianna’s pay-attention-glare. She may have to change her approach though.

“Ooooh! I have seen you before!” Her eyes grow larger by the second, and her glasses do not help matters.

“Well. I am a third year student… You probably have seen me before, during banquets in the Great Hall, at least.” She answers in her most-obviously-haughty voice. The entire class snorts and laughs.

“You! Uuuuuh! There is something dark about you, something very disturbing. You are hindering my ability to _See_. I cannot teach with you in the room! You are dangerous! You bring darkness!”

“Well Delphini, that’s it for you then! You get an Outstanding straight out on a silver platter for scaring the teacher!” There is roaring laughter at Sigmund’s joke. Syrianna kicks him under the table. “You rotten… I told you to pick something else last year!”

“That’s it! Class dismissed! You! You dark, _daaaaark_ child” her voice both shakes and rises, while her hands tremble “you must choose another subject. I will not have you in my class. Out with you all. Now! Chooo!”

They are baffled at that. But everyone moves to collect their bags and leave. A longer lunch break it is, then. Delphini makes an attempt to approach the flustered teacher but she recoils so fearfully that it is her turn to take a step back. No book permits from her it seems. Unless she can get them through fear, now that will most definitely work. Her friends’ rowdy conversation going down the staircase lightens the mood.

“I guess no one is dying this year then” Sigmund chuckles, earning himself another glare from Syrianna.

“Oh, let him off, Syri!” It’s Radagast’s turn on the teacher. “He is right you know? No one ever dies. Odds are she just _predicted_ her own death the minute she saw Delphie here, which means she may have a misshapen at tea time today. And I mean she’ll turn a cup of cold tea on herself, worst case scenario!” They all laugh at that, but Delphini spends the entirety of lunch time wondering about her predicament. She will have to do with only two book permits, it seems. And no dodgy subjects that would allow her some leeway.

X

Headmistress McGonagall looks as perplexed as herself when she calls Delphini aside in one of the corridors, two days later.

“I’m very sorry, Miss Lestrange, but Professor Trelawney was so much more unhinged than usual that I have no choice but recommend you choose another elective subject instead.”

“But I was so looking forward to Divination, Headmistress.”

“Now, now, Miss Lestrange. You are one of the most brilliant students I’ve ever had, and I dare say Hogwarts has had. Your skills in Transfiguration are well beyond those of your fellows. It seems to me you have a remarkably rational mind and that a subject such as Divination consisted more of an opportunity to put your pranking methods to work during class time.” Her lips are going thinner by the word. “You would probably enjoy Arithmancy, it’s very rational, very logical. I’d also suggest you take Mr. Morton with you.” She adds, looking over Delphini’s curls to an about-to-do-no-good looking Sigmund.

“Oh, Arithmancy, yes. Now I can take it, the schedule no longer collides. Sigmund will hate it though.”

“Just tell Mr.Morton he _must_ take another elective. I won’t have him trying to make up for your absence in poor Sybill’s classroom. She’s upset as it is!” Minerva McGonagall wonders if it isn’t time to retire the residing lunatic and find a new teacher _. The centaur may be up for it again._ _Better yet, terminate Divination teaching in Hogwarts, nothing good, or right, comes from it anyway!_

And so they spend the evening lounging about in the Common Room, occasionally looking up through the glass to watch the creatures that dwell in the Black Lake, discussing Delphini and Sigmund’s options. Delphini settles for Arithmancy gladly, but Sigmund quickly chooses Study of Ancient Runes, all three girls are already taking it and he will rather handle weird looking symbols than numbers.

Delphini stays up a little longer that night, legs crossed on her bed, curtains closed, enjoying her first restricted read of the year, courtesy of Professor Slughorn.

X

_November 12 th, 2010_

While going through her Astronomy books, she finds her own name there. Not Delphini, her middle name. Celaeno, one of the Pleiades in the sky. The dark one, out of seven sisters, the books tell her. Why would her parents name her for darkness?

The search for the origins of her name becomes a search for her Black roots. She finds her Mother’s name first and asks Madam Pince for more books on the subject. She knows her Mother’s family kept a tradition of naming their children after stars and constellations in the night sky. Unsure of what the girl is requesting, the librarian asks her if she wants books on stars and constellations or on the lineage of the House of Black. Delphini deviates from her initial course and asks for the latter.

From book to book, she reads the afternoon away. She means to leave for half an hour at the most come dinner time, and come back straight to the books. She is much faster than that. None of her friends ask questions. They recognize Delphini’s reading frenzies and they are not a thing to be messed with. Not even Teddy tries to redirect her focus into a new prank.

She is completely absorbed in a book about the War. She has never read about it thoroughly. The final chapter is a long and detailed description of the Battle of Hogwarts. She finally understands why some walls have scars and why some stairs never connect to the right place anymore. Her heart races at the mention of her Mother. And stops at the mention of the women fighting her during the last stand at the Great Hall. Of the witch who killed her Mother.

_Molly Weasley._

Oh, she has a bone to pick with her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who might be interested, Delphini’s new familiar is a smooth snake (Coronella austriaca) and the Guivre is a “real” creature from French folklore, sometimes referred to as Vouivre. If there is any French reading this, I’m sorry if I wrote something wrong or extremely off, I’ve only been to a couple of places in France, this chapter took quite a lot of research.
> 
> Please keep the reviews up, they brighten my days and get me in the right mood for writing. Fair warning that I have a side piece cooking and that it will probably be uploaded before Ch39.
> 
> UPDATE 03/02/2018 New side piece up, it's the second chapter on "The Guilt of a Mother"


	39. Distance

_Hogwarts, November 13 th, 2010_

She is desperately trying to keep her head in the game, but so far she is not succeeding. Gryffindor has the lead and she can’t be bothered by it. She dodges a Bludger, but doesn’t raise her bat to direct it at one of the red and gold shadows flying about. She can hear the cheering from the crowd, but it sounds as if something coming from very far away, like she were inside the castle.

She can’t stop her mind from running, and running, and running. She feels betrayed. She has been denied the truth for years. Her own family lied to her.

And then she is hit.

Nothing but darkness and gravity for some moments, and then something hard against her bones and she knows no more.

X

She is slowly gathering her bearings again, trying to establish where she is now. Beneath her there is something soft. Over her there is something warm. On her is no longer her Quidditch attire but something smooth and long. So she has been out for long enough to be carried to the infirmary and changed into a nightgown.

She props herself up on her elbows and opens her eyes, closing them immediately under the aggression of the lights. She lets out a grunt at how sore the right side of her face feels. She can taste blood in her mouth. And a small whimper leaves her lips involuntarily when she tries to move and turn her back to the light. The left side of her body feels even worse.

“Now, hold still, Miss Lestrange. No sudden movements. You took quite the fall from your broom. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?” Madam Pomfrey is promptly by her side, a worried look on her face, a tender hand on her forehead.

Delphini shakes her head and regrets it instantly. She is dizzy now.

“Alright, darling. Let’s get you back under the covers. You will be spending the night here, while the _Skele-Gro_ takes care of your broken ribs. I’ll give you some more _Dittany_ to help with the pain.”

_So that’s what hurts… you idiot, you let yourself be knocked off a broomstick by a Bludger. Now that’s dignified! Wait, did we lose to the buggering lions?_

“The game, Madam Pomfrey… ouch, who won the game?”

“You Quidditch players are all the same. Broken and battered but your heads still in the game the moment you can talk! No, you did not lose. Your teammates used your accident as a chance to rally. I’ve had to tend to quite a few players today, but you were the only unconscious one.” Her eyebrows drift up on her forehead as she huffs her exasperation. “Now, I’ll go and inform Professor Slughorn that you are on the mend. I’ll also bring something for you to eat. I will leave you with Mr. Lupin, but you must stay in bed, lying down, for the entirety of my absence. Once I’m back, your cousin will be off to dinner in the Great Hall. No arguing!”

Arguing is not even a possibility. The second he hears his name, Teddy is pushing through the doors and shooting questions about Delphini’s wellbeing.

“The others wanted to come too, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let them until tomorrow.”´

“Have you been waiting outside since the game ended?”

“I’ve been there since you were brought in! I was about to go to Headmistress McGonagall and demand entry.” Delphini attempts a laugh but her pain prevents it.

“And how were you going to get her permission?”

“I would charm her, obviously. Plan B was to take a page off your book and let your family hear about this.” His grin subsides almost immediately. He can see that her eyes are sombre now.

“Don’t write to my family. I’m not writing to them again.”

“Why not?”

“Do you know how my Mother died?”

“In the Battle. Like mine.”

When she tells him who killed her Mother in the battle, he is not surprised at all. He has heard the tale of the battle many times over from several Weasleys. He never realized what made them so proud of Mrs. Weasley.

Before they can tackle the matter seriously, Madam Pomfrey is back with Delphini’s dinner and stern glares for Teddy.

After food and some more _Dittany_ , Delphini is left alone in the dark, enveloped in silence. Her pain is giving way to the grogginess of the potions, but her mind keeps fighting the mist, wanting to stay sharp. She cannot win, though. And in the end, she lets her heavy-lidded eyes shut.

Unable to think properly, her mind creates images through the night. The usual dreams of stars and serpents quickly fade and make way for blood and smoke, darkness, and a faceless red-haired woman that points her wand at a beautiful woman with grey eyes and a mane of dark curls. The dream restarts, but this time, out of the smoky darkness, the image that emerges is that of the red-haired woman at the mercy of the one with the curls. She has green eyes.

She wakes up panting.

X

_King’s Cross Station, December 18 th, 2010_

The Malfoys fear the second Delphini sets foot off the train.

But she does, none the less. She looks serious, her face closed. Her friends keep their distance, exchanging no more than polite nods. Even Teddy reels in his characteristic joy.

The only news they received of her this past month were those of a broomstick fall during a Quidditch game. And by the hand of Professor Slughorn at that. None of her polite letters home, with hints at how much she misses them, openly disdaining Muggle Studies, telling tales of how she ended up in detention once more, keeping them updated on the Quidditch matches,  and all the small little things that assure them that she is alright. Something is very wrong, they know.

She is nothing if not polite when she reaches them. Kissing and receiving kisses. Giving the world nothing but serenity and poise, a proper Malfoy gathering. Narcissa tries looking into her eyes and almost flinches at what she finds there. Steel under the green.

The same steel that shone through Bella’s eyes every time she spoke of the Dark Lord and his deeds, every time she found justification for the atrocities. The same steel she saw is Dromeda’s eyes every time she stood for her beliefs. The last time she saw that steel, Andromeda was leaving their gathering at Grimmauld Place to never come back. She saw it once more, many years later, and Bellatrix never came back either.

She looks into Lucius eyes and finds the same fear under the ice there. _What if she knows? How do we protect her now?_ Those are the questions their eyes scream at each other. Only Scorpius is given some warmth. For them, there are only cold shoulders.

She keeps silent all the way home. She keeps silent when Astoria tells Scorpius to go and play for himself for a while. She keeps silent as they all walk into the piano room. She keeps silent as she watches dread overcome them.

She breaks her silence the moment Draco takes a deep breath, as if gathering momentum to raise the subject.

“Why?” The word is both a snarl and a hiss. They remain silent. Narcissa raises her hands in an appeasing gesture, but Delphini takes a step back and snarls again.

"Why!? She killed her. I have been getting those sweaters every Christmas. I've been wearing them on the weekends at Hogwarts... I even wear them at home! How could you say nothing to me?"

"Delphi-"

"Don't Delphini me! I have been wearing clothes made by the murderer of my Mother! I have been thanking her!"

“Delphi-” her Uncle tries once more, and once more she cuts him off.

“How come you’ve allowed her to send me gifts every Christmas and never told me who she really is? The killer of my Mother has been sending warm cosy sweaters to buy me off-”

“Stop it, right now.” The warning in her Uncle’s tone is palpable, she recognizes it, but she is not afraid. “Everyone struggled to make amends, Delphini. We couldn’t say no and we did not want to. You must understand-”

“I must understand nothing!” She is seething, the words are hissed through her teeth now. “You betrayed my Mother. You betrayed me!”

Delphini doesn’t wait for their reaction. She knows the hurt her words will cause even before she said them. She turns on the balls of her feet, marching out of the room, straight for the staircase.

“You’re not going to the Weasleys!” She spins in place, turning her eyes, red for a second, to her Aunt, who follows her.

“Why would I want to go to that place?”

Narcissa doesn’t answer her question. She focuses every bit of magic she possesses into keeping her _Occlumency_ shields high up around her mind, so that they conceal that, even if only for a moment, she judged Delphini for her Mother, that she thought the girl capable of seeking revenge from those who wronged her. That she doubted her nature. And her nurture.

The steel remains in Delphini’s eyes, but it is scorching now. The scorn is visible in her porcelain face, and her hands ball into fists. Narcissa recognizes that. She has seen this before. It was 1972 and a girl of nineteen was burnt off a tapestry the following day. She looks on as her niece turns again. Narcissa does not move. She knows there is nothing she can say, nothing she can do, to make things better. She will endure the storm, as she must, and wait for her little bird to come back.

She does not know that she is not breathing until her husband hugs her from behind.

“Breathe, love. She doesn’t know. This we can solve.” Albeit he has no idea pertaining to how they will do it. What he does know is that this could be much worse. That his niece could do much worse in her anger. He doesn’t understand why his son runs from the room minutes later.

Not until he hears the clear words his niece speaks. Not until his flower crumbles in his arms, hiding her tears in his robes.

X

In her rooms, Delphini scribbles a little note for Scorpius. Her Kneazle knows that something is up and watches her movements from atop her bed. She changes into a simple dress, something less Malfoy and more commoner. She packs a bag, making sure to include all of her school books and the picture of her Mother. She retrieves Guivre from his branch by the window, and feels a bit better as his scales roam her skin in his path to the inside of her shirt, settling coiled around her waist. He hisses to her about how much he has missed her, about how the crow is a despicable nuisance. Darkie is nowhere to be seen, but she figures he will find her. She throws the bag over her shoulder, casts a spell over the note, making it so that only Scorpius will be able to read it, and picks up Vicious from the bed.

The portraits all tell her to think about it, and wait, and not go. She never hears a word, simply walking into the library and the fireplace connected to the Floo Network.

“Knockturn Alley!” And she is gone in the green flames before anyone can stop her. Her last sight is of Draco calling her name. It means nothing.

X

After coming to Knockturn Alley, her surname and her glare won all the silence she needs at first. Her skill does the rest.

She disguises herself. For the first time in her life, she is forced to hide her looks and does so willingly, happily. A bit giddy with the sense of power that comes from manipulating everyone into believing her gone, lost. She makes herself a little older, as if she were in her early twenties, taking cues from young women in the street. She makes sure to look plain, erasing all of the good breeding from her features while keeping them pleasant enough. She turns her hair blond, silvery, almost the same shade as her Malfoy persona from all those years ago. She adds blue tips on a whim, burying the feelings that come at the association of blue and silver in her mind. She makes her eyes a dull dark brown that is sure to go unnoticed. She dresses in a mixture of muggle and wizarding fashion. She looks like an older student of Ravenclaw. A bit whimsical but low-key enough not to be bothered. She looks like an older Hufflepuff too. Kind but shy enough that people will refrain from approaching her.

She gets a room over Olivander’s for a week at first. Not just over his shop but also in his house, meaning she can practice magic freely, since Mr. Olivander´s experimenting and wand crafting is sure to befuddle her trace. Mr. Olivander is nice to the girl he believes is trying for an apprenticeship at the potions supplies shops. She makes sure to keep her wand hidden at all times, as well as warning Guivre not to show himself to the man.

X

_Malfoy Manor, December 20 th, 2010_

“Potter, Granger,” Draco greets them with a little nod, “we need your help. You have to locate Delphini for us. Please.” The other Malfoys in the room bow their heads too, but utter no words.

“What? Why?” Potter seems baffled. “You don’t know where she is?”

“She left two days ago. She was barely home actually.” Narcissa is fiddling with her fingers, and that gesture seems very unlike her, Hermione thinks. It’s obvious she has been crying.

“That won’t be that simple. Her trace is kept secure with those of other under aged wizards and witches.” She takes a step forward to Narcissa. “But why did she leave the day she was back from Hogwarts?” Her sharp mind is skipping ahead of their words, trying to determine what would be the reason for Delphini’s departure. And she does not like the most probable answer.

“It’s not that,” Narcissa assures her, “she learnt of Molly Weasley’s role in the death of her Mother.”

Draco watches both Harry and Hermione take a deep breath. The day they fear the most, all of them, should it ever come to pass, is not upon them. Yet. This they can deal with, or so they appear to think.

“And she feels betrayed because of the Christmas gifts she has been sending. It’s nothing we can’t handle, but we need to find her first. We understand her need for distance at this time, but we need to know that she is safe.” He is offering information they have not requested, but he knows Granger and her need to get to the bottom of things.

“But you had hoped she would be back sooner.” Harry has found his voice again. There is a haunting within his eyes. He supposes they all have it, this shadow of future fear. “All right, I will go to the Department for the Under Aged Use of Magic and see if I can access her trace.” He looks to Hermione at the end, clearly hoping she will be able to help him.

“What do you mean? Can’t we access it?” Lucius comes into the conversation, hands on Narcissa’s shoulders. “As her legal guardians, we have access to it, do we not?”

“Delphini’s trace is kept separate. With those of the sons and daughters of high profile Ministry workers, all considered to be at risk because they could be a way to reach their parents. I managed to move her trace there because… well, because of the Lestranges. And everyone knowing about her after Rita’s article.” Hermione hugs herself and Harry puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“You feared someone could get revenge on them through her?” Narcissa seems terrified by the possibility of such a thing. She takes a hand to her lips, dwelling in that possibility. When her eyes rise again, there are grateful tears on them. “Thank you for thinking of it. Thank you for keeping her safe that way too.”

Plans are hastily but thoroughly made. Once the trace is available to them, one and only one Malfoy will go to Delphini and attempt to bring her back. And then Potter has an idea. It’s ludicrous but it might just work. It will give Delphini the time she needs, but it will also, hopefully, end her need for distance. Tempting her just enough that she may come back home.

X

_Diagon Alley, December 21 st, 2010_

She is having lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, wondering about her days here. She is not very good at cooking, yet, and she will not risk being exposed over food boiling out of pots. Vicious is happy enough with the food she buys him from the _Menagerie_ and Mr. Olivander is happy to see the mice in his shop reduced. Of course, that is not Vicious Mist at all and Delphini is now dealing with a moody snake that’s about to shed again from all the growing. The cherry on top of the cake is Darkie, who is bored because he has no letters to deliver and hasn’t been able to find a quiet place to perch on without being jumped on.

She is quite sure Darkie will not be around when she returns. He’s only around at night mostly, when Delphini is there to keep her other familiars in check. For now, she will meander back to her room and read from the books she purchased form _Obscurus_ earlier. She is about to get up from her table when Teddy saunters in the pub. She almost waves to him before she remembers she cannot blow her cover. He would not even recognize her like this.

Flustered, she picks up her books, tosses some coins on the table, not really caring to check, and walks out. Instead of meandering down Diagon Alley, she angrily trots to Olivander’s, making her way to the back of the shop, with only a shy little smile for a greeting, and up the twisting narrow stairs. Vicious is quick to nuzzle her, but Guivre hisses his acknowledging of her presence and goes back into his nook between the books on the shelf.

She has to give up on reading, her mind simply won’t abide. She misses them all. She is furious at all of them, and her anger has been simmering for over a month now. She needs closure, but the way to that includes talking to them, to the family who lied to her, and she is afraid. Because her dreams have changed and she has seen the beautiful woman with green eyes turn her wand on silver heads too. And she does not want that. She will not turn on her family. She would rather never see them again. So she keeps her distance and hears her heart rip a little more every day.

She finds herself curled on the windowsill, watching the snow fall silently, watching the flakes drift in the soft wind, and wishing to be soothed by the cold. She opens the window, just a slit, but it’s enough. The cold sweeps in, she welcomes the pain that comes from taking deep breaths, and runs her hands through her hair. It still feels very foreign to her. Her hair is smooth now and doesn’t have a bit of fight in it. She pulls some tresses forward, admiring the blue tips, for the first time admitting to herself that _that blue_ is precisely the one from Draco’s room. That the silver is also precisely the Malfoy shade of it. Even the brown in her eyes, it’s not dull, it’s the same warm brown that she sees in Astoria’s eyes.

Delphini lifts her gaze from her hair and looks to the horizon. She sees Gringotts vaulted roofs from her window and she has to focus, hard, on not going to her vault right now. She knows there’s a box there, waiting for her, from her parents. She could feel it the first time she saw it, she simply knew it. But going into Gringotts disguised is not an option, and neither is breaking her cover. She closes the window and lets her forehead meet the glass. She points her wand to the other end of her room, setting a small kettle to boil. When it’s ready, she levitates the cup of tea towards her, leaving a misty trail behind. Vicious settles over her feet, purring his obvious pleasure.

She does not know for how long she has been there when a small pebble hits the window. She blinks out of thoughts. Another hit.

“What the-” She never finishes that sentence. There’s a boy outside, with blue hair barely concealed under a knitted cap, with a black and yellow scarf around the lower half of his face. His eyes, she can tell, are smiling.

“Found you!”

The scream is muffled by the scarf, but she can’t have him scream her name in the middle of the street. She rushes downstairs, stops, goes back up and removes Guivre from his nook, hiding him in a trunk at the feet of the bed. He is not happy at the sudden movements.

“Hiss once more and I’ll leave you outside in the snow!” Her Parseltongue is harsh and commanding. She doesn’t linger to hear the answer. She runs to the front door of Olivander’s.

“We are closed!”

“It’s not a client, Mr. Olivander, just a friend of mine. He’ll be quick.”

Delphini drags Teddy inside.

“How on earth did you find me?”

“I’m a Hufflepuff,” he shrugs his shoulders, “and I had some clues to follow. Your trace put you somewhere in Diagon Alley for several days. There aren’t many places to actually live around here. I was going to check the Leaky Cauldron first, but then I saw a certain girl with silver and blue hair holding books from _Obscurus_.”

“And how did you know it was me? I never take my wand out in public, no one knows my name-”

“You tossed some coins on the table, not really caring about how much you were paying. Not many people are that indifferent to money, and most that are do not eat at the pub.” He has a winning smile. “And then I tossed a pebble at your window and you completely lost it.”

“You sly…”  She can’t even be mad at him. She hugs him, truly and tightly. She knows he will always keep her secret. So maybe she doesn’t have to give up all of her family. Her true appearance is back when she lets go of him.

“Did Potter tell you about my trace? You must promise me that you won’t tell him about where I’m living. I’ll change my looks and move into the Leaky Cauldron after Christmas and then I’ll go back to Hogwarts and they’ll know I’m fine.”

“Okay then. I won’t tell Potter where you are.”

“Nor Draco. Nor your Grandmother.”

“I won’t tell them.”

_That was easy. Way to easy!_

“Are you really going to spend Christmas in here?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then I’ll be stopping by on Boxing Day bearing gifts and cookies. And that is the end of it, or else I shall be stepping outside to scream about you at the top of my lungs.”

And she knows he most definitely will, so she gets him a cup of tea too and talks the afternoon away.

Three days later, she realizes just how much Teddy wishes for her to spend Christmas with her family, and not alone with books, a Kneazle and a raven. And a snake, but he doesn’t know that. Mr. Olivander is gone for the holidays and her only responsibility is to finish her homework. She cannot perform magic freely now, and that’s upsetting because she can’t even try to cook her lunch. She is leaving her place to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, once more, when a familiar voice surprises her.

“Hello, Delphini.”

Draco is waiting for her. Pristine in his black cloak with silver clasps, the snowflakes simply sliding down, never sticking like they do to her purple one. She feels like killing Teddy, and hugging him, and torturing him for a week straight, and thanking him many, many times over.

“He told you, didn’t he?”

“No, but he wrote to Scorpius. Who requires me to give you this.”

He extends a small package. Chocolate, she knows. And a note.

“ _I miss you. Come home._

_Please._

_Scorpius_ ”

And she knows she is going home now. She could never stay away, not after this tiny bit of parchment. And Draco knows it too.

“Can I help you pack your things?”

“Only if you promise to not peek into the closet. I have your gifts in there.”

His right eyebrow goes up, in challenge.

“I was going to have Darkie deliver them in the morning. Don’t flatter yourself, I bought them at Hogsmeade during one of the trips, they were in my Hogwarts’ trunk and I wasn’t going to let Scorpius find them and ruin the surprise!”

He chuckles and signals for her to go back inside. When all of her things are securely stored, a note left on Mr. Olivander’s working bench, Guivre wrapped around her left arm and Vicious held by her right one, Draco picks up her extended bag and brings her closer by her shoulders. He _Apparates_ them to just outside the Manor’s gates.

“Thank you for bringing me home. I’m sorry I left.” She tells him as they walk past the gates.

She repeats those exact words to Scorpius, who eyes her suspiciously at first and then runs to hug her. She receives a kiss on the forehead from Uncle Lucius, and warm embraces from Astoria and her Aunt. Except Narcissa holds on for much longer and leaves tears on her cheeks and doesn’t let go of her face for a long time, twirling one of her curls on a spindly finger.

“I could never lose you too.” And Delphini knows, without even looking, that both her Mother and a woman who looks a lot like her are on her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter got a bit away from me and ended up being much longer that I meant. This means some things had to be pushed into Ch40, including solving the Molly issue. It will come, don’t you worry.  
> In the meantime, keep the reviews up, they keep me writing. Hope you liked this one.  
> Because of the rearrangement, I shall be updating the notes on the second chapter of “The Guilt of the Mother”
> 
> UPDATE 16/02/2018; New side piece up. It's in my series and it's called The Curse of the Flower. There's a help request at the end, in the notes, I'd be extremely grateful if you could take the time to help me


	40. Green and Yellow

_Malfoy Manor, December 25 th, 2010_

Scorpius is the first to come through her doors that morning. He nearly flies across the floor, flinging himself onto her bed, sending Vicious running off from under the quilt.

“I missed you”, he tells her once he lands on the covers, “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back home.” He is curled up on his own, by her side but not looking at her. So she uses her fingers, just out of their childhood and into the long elegance of youth, to raise his chin and guide his eyes to hers.

“I’ll always come back to you, Scorpius. And that’s a promise.”

He gives her his best smile. One that is very much like that rare smile of hers.

“Happy Christmas, Delphie. Can we go downstairs now?”

Her laughter is mirthful, and her arms around him are warm and loving. Unknown to her, that laugh is carried over the doorframe, down hallways and through walls, settling on the hearts of those who love her.

The tree is set by the piano this year. According to Scorpius, there is a veritable mountain of gifts by it. Of course, being seven, anything taller than him – and his pile of gifts is taller than him – looks like a mountain. Delphini’s only hopes that a certain present is not on her pile.

They are the last to arrive. Delphini smirks at the sight they make for. No one in the whole of Wizarding Britain would expect them, the o-so-above-you Malfoys, to gather wearing pyjamas and dressing gowns. Except they do. Once a year, and only once, the Malfoys put propriety aside for the course of an entire morning, and exchange gifts.

Scorpius immediately proceeds to open all of his presents in frenzy, after an almost absent greeting. Her Aunt watches him rip open the first one with a smile on her lips. But it only reaches her eyes when Delphini approaches her, a smile on her lips and a little box on her hands. Narcissa tucks one of her rebellious curls behind her left ear and can’t help but let a tear fall. The happiness in her mind is so evident that Delphini cannot stop hers from understanding the words there.

_My little bird came back._

Delphini smiles all the brighter at that thought. Of course she did. What else could she do? Pretend she doesn’t love them? Pretend she didn’t miss them? Never cross the doors to this house again? This is home, this is her lair. She will always come back.

“Happy Christmas, Aunt Cissa.”

“Happy Christmas, little bird.”

She can feel the hand of Uncle Lucius on her shoulder. That gesture that belongs to the two of them exclusively. The one that means she is right and he is proud. He presents her with a velvety box. This is not new, she can tell. The velvet isn’t quite so soft at the edges and around the corners anymore. Nor is its colour so vivid. A family heirloom she understands.

“My Mother’s?” She asks as she unravels a pair of earrings. Two small squared emeralds with tear shaped pearls hanging from them, held together by silver.

“Yes, it was your Mother’s, my sweet star of darkness. Happy Christmas.”

And with that, he pulls her towards his body, planting a single, soft kiss on the crown of her head. She responds by leaning into him. She did miss them horribly. That old fear of hers had resurfaced and stayed afloat the whole time she was gone, but in that embrace she puts it to rest. Once and for all. She belongs here.

“I left that gift on your desk.” Draco tells her, while they watch Scorpius peel away the wrapping of what is, very obviously, a new broom, “so you can decide what to do with it.” She notices the nervous bite of his teeth into his bottom lip, but _that_ is something she will not touch.

“Go get it. Get rid of it. I’m not opening it and I’ll toss it in the fireplace if I ever see it.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Astoria’s voice comes from behind them. She too tucks a wild curl behind Delphini’s ear, and extends a present to her. “This one is from the two of us.”

The unease in the air is broken just like that. Soothing words and hands that remind her of what she has missed for so long. Not just these last few days but every day since the 1st of September. She has missed home, and comfort. Not the luxurious possessions, there are plenty of those in the green and silver common room. She has missed this particular comfort of being transparent to people around her and not caring about it.

X

Teddy shows up the gates on Boxing Day, bearing gifts and cookies, as promised.

“Is it safe for me to traverse these gates, oh mighty damsel? Shall thou unleash furious peacocks on me and have the bushes strangle me?”

“Yes, it is safe. No, I will not let the peacocks have your eyes.”

“Good, my Grandmother is already having me fleeced when I come back.” They both laugh at the jape.

“Why? Did she tell you not to come?”

“Yes, she did. She doesn’t really like that the two of us actually get along.”

He scrunches his eyebrows, frowning, and smirks when he sees the same expression in Delphini’s face, whose smirk is also like his. He thinks his Grandmother dislikes that too. That they are alike in appearance. Like she and Bellatrix were.

“And you came anyway?”

“Well, I vowed that I would. And I count on my godfather to keep me out of trouble,” he shrugs his shoulders, not a care in the world, “but I don’t think he’ll make a difference. My Grandma can be quite the dragon lady.”

Delphini looks at him, a gleeful glint extending from the green to the brown. They say nothing, but share the same thought as Teddy makes his way inside. Andromeda is a Black after all.

X

_Malfoy Manor, January 2 nd, 2011_

Draco and Astoria have been pale all day. Astoria actually went upstairs to lie down for the afternoon and Delphini will never forget the look of sheer panic that crossed Draco’s face. It’s been years since the last time she had to rest over the course of a normal day, and almost as long since they last saw her looking this pale.

Delphini is worried, but that is mostly at the back of her mind. She has been staring down the clock on the mantle for quite a while. She has been taking peeks at the clocks around the house for several hours now, with the added stress of having to keep it unnoticed.

She needs to keep it unnoticed for the duration of dinner still. Before she retreats to her rooms and starts filtering through her notes on the Chamber. And that means keeping her body still but not stiff, and her mind focused but not just on her thoughts. Because she thinks she finally knows. But they can’t.

Her family knows of Parseltongue. They are fine with it as long as she keeps it a secret from the outside world.

Her family knows of Guivre. They are fine with him as long as he keeps from biting them. They don't really mind his nibs at the house-elves, but Delphini has made it crystal clear that servants and meals are different things. Even if they are all alive, as the snake quickly points out every time she touches on the matter.

Her family knows of her proclivity in the Dark Arts. They are fine with her experimenting within certain boundaries. Most of the time, they take the "if you can get away with it" approach to her feats. If no one knows, and no one is harmed, and no one can trace it back to her, they do not oppose.

Her family does not know of her recent obsession with the Chamber. They would not, most definitely, be fine with it should they know she means to open it again. The monster inside has long been dead. The only thing crawling out of it would be her secret. Their secret. So they cannot know.

Inspiration came to her this morning, after Scorpius' close encounter with the Reaper. Scorpius, like his cousin, albeit several years older, managed to fly a broomstick square into a wall. Unlike his cousin though, Scorpius actually made a dent on said wall.

That is why Astoria needed to lie down. That is why Draco won’t let his son out of his sight. That is why Uncle Lucius takes a peek from behind his newspaper every so often, trying to make sure Scorpius isn’t asleep. And why Aunt Narcissa keeps combing his soft hair with empty eyes, lost in considerations of mortality, no doubt.

When Scorpius came to his senses again, Delphini was there to help him up. And to tease him in a way only she is allowed.

“Trying to become a ghost are you? If you’re lucky, you’ll get to join the ones at Hogwarts and follow me around.”

“I’d very much prefer it if my grandson kept to his mortal path instead of becoming a ghost child,” came Uncle Lucius deep voice, accompanied by the tapping of his cane.

And then Delphini’s mind was ablaze. Still is.

_A ghost child that followed people around. How did you not see it before? She lives in the bathroom of the floor where the Basilisk petrified its victims._

She needs to get back to Hogwarts.

X

_Hogwarts, January 23 rd, 2011_

As much as she wanted to go there sooner, she couldn’t find enough time and enough quiet. The second floor is always too busy and every girl in the school knows to use another lavatory. So she has been biding her time. Until tonight.

It’s past curfew and she is sure all of her roommates are fast asleep. Delphini slithers her feet from under the covers, touching them to the floor. She forfeits slippers and shoes, she likes the feeling of cold stone against her bare skin. She always puts her feet down on the icy floors when the nightmares with the red-haired witch come. She lays her whole body on it when the dream comes with silver blonde.

She rushes out of the dormitory, pulling on her dressing gown as she goes. She places her feet carefully, so as not to make a sound. The ball of her feet, then the heel, a demure little panther moving through the dungeons, up the staircases, down the second floor corridor. Peeves stops mid-air at the sight of her, knowing better than to raise the alarm.

“Keep Filch and the freaking cat away.”

A command, a stern order, the likes of which the poltergeist is used to coming only from the Bloody Baron. And the Headmistress. He simply nods and proceeds to depart. When Delphini is out and about at night, Peeves makes sure to stay out of her way.

Entering the girls’ lavatory, she immediately hears the sobs from Moaning Myrtle. She almost rolls her eyes. Delphini needs to be alone to explore at will. The needy ghost must leave, but she may know something useful to her endeavor. So the young witch will strive for a balance.

She makes sure to make some noise closing the door. The still weeping ghost pokes her head around one of the stalls.

“Wha-what are yo-you doing here,” she asks while she wipes transparent, silvery tears off her equally transparent cheeks, “don’t you know a-about the curfew?”

“I wanted to talk to you, but I needed to do it alone.”

Myrtle stops her crying, hovering away from the stall, levitating before Delphini, her eyes transfixed on the girl. She tilts her head, and smiles.

“You have eyes like him,” she says with a little giggle, “he has very pretty eyes, you know?”

“Eyes like who? My Father?” Another giggle answers Delphini and she is tempted to be rude to the ghost and just have her gone.

“Who was your father? Never mind,” she shakes her head dismissively, “he’s not the one I’m talking about. Harry Potter. You have eyes like Harry Potter.”

Delphini’s eyebrows go up in clear contempt. Auror Potter is one of the people that kept the truth from her, and she has no ties to him to help forgiveness along.

“Right. Well,” she huffs as she throws her loose braid over her shoulder, “let’s get started then. How did you die?”

The ghost is frazzled by her blunt question and automatically stretches the distance between them. The subject strikes a nerve, as Delphini expected it to, but she wants to move things along and will either get her answer or drive the ghost girl away from the bathroom. One or the other, to hell with compromise.

“There was a boy that had eyes like yours too. He was older than me, very handsome, I think he was a Prefect-”

“Enough about my eyes! How did you die?”

That does it. Moaning Myrtle is in tears again, wailing about how insensitive her questions are, how everyone is always so mean to her, how the girls only come inside to tease her… And with a final loud sob, wiping tears behind her glasses, she flies over a stall door and takes a plunge into the school pipes.

_Good riddance. Now where is it?_

She starts checking the walls for marks, the mirrors for errors of refraction, the ceiling for some sort of sign. There is nothing. She lets her fingers caress the cold porcelain of the sinks, as she investigates them too. She can’t be sure, she never found anything that confirmed where the entrance to the Chamber is, but given the hint from the Baron, she figures this must be it.

Her hearts jumps in her chest when she sees a snake engraved on one of the taps. She caresses it with reverence. Her brain is working at full speed, all her senses dulled in concentration. There must be a password of sorts.

_Or not… only Parseltongue could open the Chamber right?_

She can hardly believe it, but her brain seems to agree that she should just tell the tap what she wants. Just ask it to open. If that doesn’t work, she will think of something else.

_“Open.”_

She hisses the word with ease, delighted by the sound of it, and watches in amazement as the snake moves and the sink drops away, revealing the entrance to a large pipe. She takes a few careful steps inside, but quickly slips on the moist surface, and ends up sliding down the pipe, unable to stop or even slow down her descent. She is not afraid though, she is ecstatic. She finds herself on brittle bones at the end of the slope. The prey of the beast that used to live here, she understands.

For the first time tonight, she regrets being barefoot. The broken bones pinch and press into her soles, and she is forced to thread a painful path to the comfort of cold stone. There’s a corridor ahead. Or the remains of it. The ceiling has caved in at several places. She makes her way through the rubble, clutching her pale wand, taking gasps of air when her lungs refuse to work properly from sheer excitement. She has found it. She is here.

Her wide green eyes are drawn to something beneath the rubble. She crouches next to it, reaching with her left hand as she brings her right one, still clutching her wand, to her heaving chest. It’s so fragile now that it crumbles away at her touch, but she recognizes it. A shedding. The skin of the Basilisk.  She can only see parts of it, occluded as it is by rubble and eaten away by time, but there is enough here to have an idea of the sheer size of the beautiful beast that used to rule here. She is absolutely enthralled by this place already when she reaches the doors to the Chamber.

They are tall and heavy looking. The elegant snakes there speak of superiority, of exceptionality. Of her rare, rare gift. Of the secret she and her family keep. To the snakes she speaks her plead once more. To open up.

_“Hesha-hassah.”_

And the doors move, allowing her inside the green hued chamber. It’s flooded, but she can still see the top of Salazar Slytherin’s statue. More importantly, she can see a huge skeleton. Vertebrae and ribs contorted in the curves she associates with Guivre, except these are much, much larger. She walks towards it unafraid, a smile on her lips. She takes notice of all the snakes on the pillars and the walls, of the inky hue to the stone. It’s different, but this place feels a bit like home.

She belongs here. This feeling of cold and wetness is the one she craves when she needs soothing.

She stops before the mighty skull. There are several fangs missing, but she caresses one from the base to the tip, careful not to disturb it. Careful not to let the still sharp tip gnaw into her flesh. Death has not taken away from the creature’s magnificence. She takes in the sight of the Chamber one more time. She will come back later, often, and explore at will. She will turn this place into her sanctuary. Here, she will be free to experiment with magic. Here, she will be free to become herself.

X

_Hogwarts, February 19 th, 2011_

She tells no one of the Chamber. The Baron does ask her one night, up in the Astronomy Tower, with a knowing glint in his eye. She has been taking things to the Chamber. Books mostly. In there, she can perfect her duelling skills. She will take no furniture down there. She will learn to Conjure everything she might need. That is a decision easily made. That chamber was built from powerful magic, for powerful magic. So she will rise to the challenge and become better.

Her thoughts scatter when Teddy takes a seat across her. There is a little pinch at her conscience. Maybe she should tell him too, about her gift and the place she calls home inside Hogwarts. Her considerations of the implications fall to pieces as her eyes focus on what he is wearing.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Delphini sounds outraged as she takes in the sight of her cousin clad in a new sweater.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley knitted this for me this year.”

“Alright… But it’s green! And the T is grey!”

“I guess she wanted to go for a change. The Houses don’t change colours, she must have grown bored.”

“Sure. The woman knits sweaters for an entire village, she probably messed up her wool threads.”

“Well, it’s green and you’re playing today. So I’m wearing it,” he declares, shrugging his shoulders and dismissing the subject, “I’ll also be turning my hair green.” Delphini laughs wholeheartedly.

“Don’t expect me to turn my hair yellow during your games.”

“Your hair is already black. I can compromise,” Teddy chuckles, almost choking on his juice, “now finish your breakfast and go whack some birds of their brooms.”

“Will do. And come March I’ll have the chance to see you be whacked off yours.”

They share a smile, the one that belongs only to them. Teddy has made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team this year, as a Chaser. He couldn’t be there for the first match, as one of their shenanigans had landed them both in detention for the entire weekend, but he’ll play against Gryffindor in about two weeks’ time. Of course, the one game they truly look forward is in May, when the badgers and the snakes confront each other on the pitch. But that is still to come. The entire school is looking forward to the game really, and whether or not the vicious Beater will play by the same book once her cousin is on the opposing team.

X

_Hogwarts Express, June 30 th, 2011_

The school year feels morose to Delphini. The Quidditch matches, the duelling club, the classes, her practice in the Chamber, the visits to the Baron in the tower, even the late nights with Teddy are not enough. She cannot wait to go home. She misses her family, yes, but she needs to talk to them about something else too.

During Easter break, she wasn’t ready to touch on the subject. She couldn’t even bring Guivre back with her, despite her plan of concealing him in the Chamber. He is no Basilisk, but he keeps growing. He is well beyond what other snakes of his species grow to. In the end, the Chamber is too cold, too wet. He needs warmth, and she couldn’t go around Hogwarts with him wrapped around her body for heath. So she decided to leave him behind again, even if that meant she had no one to discuss her nightmares with. Darkie is no help. And putting her thoughts on parchment is absolutely out of the question.

Because her nightmares have lingered all year long. She sees her Mother at the mercy of Molly Weasley, she sees Molly at her mercy sometimes too. But the sight of her family under her wand is the one that scares her the most. The one that drove her to the Chamber again and again, in search for some peace, some closure in her books. The one that saw her stealing from Professor Slughorn’s storage, phial after phial of _Dreamless Sleep_ until she mastered the potion, when not even the rose essence on her pillow and the cold floors would ease her back to sleep.

She sees the highlands change to greener countryside and the countryside turn to urban skylines and her mind is a blur the entire time. She needs to talk to her, she understands. There is a dangerous darkness rising inside her, drowning her heart, and she must put it to rest before it becomes unhinged and lashes out at someone. Before she hurts her family.

She says her goodbyes to her friends, promising to write and visit. They promise to meet her on her birthday, but she is beyond caring about such matters. When Teddy hugs her on the platform, feeling her unrest, she snaps out of her trance momentarily. She is becoming transparent in a place that is not home and that cannot be. She steals her mind and walks to her family, fighting the urge that tells her to run to them, to bury her face in her Uncle’s chest and lean towards the caresses of her Aunt’s. She can’t stop the words from running out of her mouth, past her lips.

“Will you help me reach Auror Potter? I need to talk to Mrs. Weasley.”

Her eyes are a plea all on their own, beneath the turmoil in the green.

X

_Malfoy Manor, July 13 th, 2011_

She picks up her quill and dips it in the ink. She hesitates before putting it to parchment. Taking a deep breath, she steadies her hand and puts words to parchment. A simple letter, a note really, is all she needs to write. She has talked about all the details of her dreams with Draco, she allowed herself to seek refuge in his lap, shielded from the world by his arms, even if she doesn’t quite fit anymore. Now is the time to steel herself and face her choice.

She has chosen not to shut Molly Weasley out forever. Auror Potter will take her to the Burrow tomorrow, but she has to write this note and send Darkie on his way to deliver it.

This is her seventh attempt. She is not asking for permission, she will not. But she cannot order the Weasleys to receive her. She is struggling to find the words, the tone. With one last steading breath, she decides for a notice.

_“Mrs. Weasley_

_I will be visiting at the Burrow tomorrow. I must talk to you about my Mother._

_Delphini”_

That’s it. That’s all. Telling nothing and yet telling everything. She has chosen forgiveness, as her family seems to have done years ago. All she can do now is wait.

She points her wand at the note to dry it. Then she folds it, dropping some crimson wax where the ends overlap, and pressing her crest into it. Not the Lestrange crest. The crest of the House of Black. It has always been the one which feels like hers. Then she moves quickly, rising from her place at the desk and walking towards the window. She needs to send the note before she regrets her words and shreds them to pieces again. She looks out for the raven, calling him to her. Her scaly familiar slowly winds a path from his branch to her shoulder, coiling his body once around her neck, loosely, and draping his body down her arm. She pets his head with her right hand, while the left one taps the note to the windowsill. The second Darkie lands, she ties it to the bird’s foot and sends him on its way, with a promise of many treats upon his return.

She rushes from her rooms, snake still wrapped around her shoulders. The Malfoys have come to understand that she finds comfort in her familiar and don’t mind it. Most portraits gasp when she walks past them, as if she were a vision of something they fear. She doesn’t even listen to them. She walks quickly and with purpose, but does not run. She finds her Aunt in the sunroom tending to her flowers under the content gaze of Uncle Lucius. They are having a conversation, but cease when she approaches. She pulls Guivre from her shoulders and lays him on the marble table now warm from the sun. He hisses a thank you and slides away to hunt. Then she walks towards her Aunt and wraps her arms around her waist.

Narcissa worries at the dark circles under the girl’s eyes. They have been dosing her with all sorts of potions in attempt to keep the dreams at bay, but nothing seems to work anymore. She presses her palm to Delphini’s cheek, caressing the angle of her jaw. They say nothing. Delphini doesn’t need words, only gestures. She smiles to her husband as he lays a hand on his niece’s shoulder and rubs circles with his thumb there.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Delphini’s voice is hoarse from lack of use. “Would my Mother be proud of me? Would my Father?”

Narcissa brings her closer, hugs her tighter. But leaves the words to Lucius.

“If it feels right to you, then it is,” he tells her in his deep voice, moving his other hand to her curls, to move them away from her face, “despite what others may think. Do what you feel necessary, Delphini, and you will always be right.” Delphini turns her head slightly, so that she can look into his eyes.

“Do what you must to feel better, to be able to sleep at night. Don’t live your life under the shadow of what people already gone would have you do.”

There is only truth there. A hard truth, but all the more pacifying for it. Her Aunt seems to stiffen a bit in her stance, and she assumes the words are what caused it. Her mind is too tired to pay attention.

Lucius barely keeps from gulping. A slip of the tongue, one that went unnoticed fortunately, but still one that could bring their house of cards down. Narcissa just stares at him with wide eyes, hoping that her little bird won’t fly through their web of lies.

X

_Ottery St Catchpole, July 14 th, 2011_

_She has not slept_ , Harry thinks as he watches Delphini hold her Mother’s necklace tight in her hand for the hundredth time. The Auror Department would stage a riot should they know what he is up to. But they would never understand the need for closure Delphini has. Not like he does, anyway.

“Queasy? Side-along Apparition does that.” He gives her a comforting smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she raises her head to the pile of spare rooms that seems to make the Burrow, “can we just go?”

If they take too long now, Delphini might regret her decision and run. She cannot Apparate back home, but she will surely find a wizarding home with a fireplace she can use. So Harry Potter nods and points his chin to the weird looking house. They start walking, no words between them. They stop only before the small wooden gate, catching their breaths. He knows she isn’t doing as bad as she looks when he observes her composing herself. Straightening her skirt and shirt, making sure the pleats fall right, pushing her curls over her shoulders and rearranging the hairpin that keeps them off her face. They walk past the gate and to the front door.

Mrs.Weasley comes to them immediately, wringing her hands. None of them seem to know what to do, so Harry takes it upon himself to start a conversation.

“This place is very quiet today, Mrs.Weasley. Where’s everyone?” The Burrow is empty by the looks of it.

“Oh, I sent them all off to do something. Figured you’d prefer some peace and quiet dear,” Molly smiles in earnest at Delphini, and the girl can’t help but smirk a little, “it’s only me and Arthur. Care for some tea? I have biscuits too.”

Harry is astonished that Molly can handle the spitted image of Bellatrix Lestrange standing at her doorstep with so much ease. Tea and biscuits! She is already mothering Delphini and the girl isn’t inside yet.

They sit quietly at first, as Delphini takes in her surroundings. It’s very, very, different from Malfoy Manor, but the same indelible feeling of home is present within these walls too. They have been sitting in the kitchen for a while now, sipping from their mugs. Arthur seems to think his presence here is not necessary, and that he might be hindering progress, so he excuses himself. The silence returns, after the scratching of his chair on the wood floor. But not for much longer.

“Why did you do it?” Delphini breaks the ice with her clear voice. It’s not an accusation, merely a question. A true and honest inquiry.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you existed then-”

“No, not that. I know why you killed my Mother. You were defending your family. I would’ve done the same,” only then does Delphini look Molly in the eyes, “I understand. I mean, why did you send gifts?”

“Because I was sorry for taking your Mother from you. Because I deprived you from her love,” Molly sighs at that, as if doubting herself, “so I felt like I owed you some love too. I’ll stop sending you presents, though.”

“No. Don’t. Or do, I didn’t mean to tell you what to do. I’m just,” Delphini takes a deep breath, clutching her necklace once more, “I’m just trying to say that you’re welcome to do as you like.”

Delphini uses the chance to probe Molly’s mind. She knows she shouldn’t, but she doesn’t have any barriers up. Her mind is wide open. She can feel the sorrow there, the remorse over the taking of a life. This woman did what she had to do, protected her family in the face of danger, and still regrets her actions. Delphini doesn’t really understand regretting something that had to be done, but there’s nothing but honesty in the woman’s words.

“Well, I’d like to keep sending you, and little Scorpius, a present every Christmas. I’m sorry for taking your Mother. No child should be left orphan.”

Harry can’t help but raise his eyes to Delphini’s face at that. Molly does not know just how truthful that sentence is, but he still fears that the girl may uncover their lies. That the future he fears may come to pass.

It goes utterly unnoticed.

He realizes there isn’t much more to say. This was about closure, and they seem to have found it in that short exchange.

“Actually, if you’ll have it, I have your Christmas present here.”

Delphini asks Molly a question with only her eyes. She smirks when the answer comes.

_Toria sent it, of course. Toria, who made sure Scorpius wouldn’t wear his mittens around me either._

She puts her mug aside when Molly places a soft package wrapped in brown paper on top of the table, sliding it towards her. Then she proceeds to open it and pull her out-of-season Christmas present up, showing it to Harry too. Her grin is a wonder. Harry chokes on his tea and Molly gasps, but Delphini keeps her smile as she thanks her.

“Oh, I’m sorry dear. I-I-I don’t know what happened.”

The sweater Delphini is holding up is yellow, and the usual D is black. She can’t help the smile from sticking to her lips. And she does not regret it at all.

“Don’t worry. Teddy will be thrilled next time I show up for one of his matches wearing this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so very sorry for the huge delay. This is over 5k, so sorry for not sticking to a solid word count too. I wrote this chapter the first time, read it, decided it was the crappiest thing and scratched it from existence. Then real life got in the way and I needed to do some purging before I got back to it (hence all the forum works I posted), but here it is now. Rewritten, hopefully much better. Anyway, let me know what you think, reviews keep me going.
> 
> I still have quite a chunk of writing from Lucius POV mostly, on the happenings of Ch39, and I might publish it. I edited the whole thing out of the previous chapter, since it's 3k words long, but I figure it makes for a decent side piece. Let me know your thoughts on some Lucissa angsty fluffiness and I'll make a decision.


	41. Mischief Managed

_Malfoy Manor, August 7 th, 2011_

Delphini sneaks about the house, trying to smuggle her gift to the vicinity of her little cousin early in the morning. He is usually the first one up, so she has been up for hours now, making sure his gift is kept content and quiet, and that she will be the first through his bedroom doors.

She has kept the said gift hidden in the Manor for a week now. The place is so large that there’s an entire wing that goes unused, kept in the shadows. Some of the portraits here don’t even know her, though they remember her Mother apparently.

“Ah, Bellatrix, come to see your Master?”

Delphini spins on herself, turning to face the portrait. She gives it a piercing gaze, trying to make sense of his words. The silver blond man takes a couple of steps behind inside his frame. He has just now realized that she is not Bellatrix.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, truly. Don’t mind me, just a foolish old portrait.”

He proceeds to flee the painting and Delphini just stands there for ten solid minutes. The Dark Lord her family talks of, Lord Voldemort she knows, used to live here? In this wing of the manor? Her Mother was so close to him as to visit? Not just be summoned? Her mind thinks of other questions too. Like why the man, an obvious Malfoy, would refer to himself as foolish, or why he sounded so apologetic.

A little whimper brings her back to reality, and she starts walking again, entering a room not far down the corridor, to the right. She closes the door behind her, crouching down and extending a hand with some raw meat. She smiles at the playful hazel eyes that hop clumsily towards her, and then turns her face into an admonishment as she takes the food back.

“Have you destroyed a chair?”

The gift replies with a wagging of its severed tail and a tongue sticking out.

_Scorpius is going to love her._

_My family is going to kill me._

She extends the meat back, letting the creature feed at will. When it’s done and her fingers have been thoroughly licked, she Scourges her hand with her wand, and negotiates the placement of a bright red bow on its neck. She has to charm the bow to ensure it won’t be chewed on during the small journey to Scorpius’ rooms.

When she is at his door, she listens carefully, making sure he is not awake yet. She opens the door slowly, silently, and sneaks in at the first possible moment. Then she walks to the end of the bed, making sure the Kneazle is not there, before letting her gift loose on the covers. It takes an insisting sniff at first that has Delphini fearing for the worst, but eventually gallops to the pillow and the head nestled there.

“Happy birthday, Scorpius,” she honestly wishes at the half-awaken boy trying to keep a puppy off his face, “may you live long and prosper.” Her smile is met by one of his, as he holds the tiny Crup to his chest and hops off the bed to hug her.

“Thank you, Delphie! Does it have a name?”

“It is a she and, no, she doesn’t have a name. You own her, you choose her name,” she tells him, messing up his hair, “but don’t you dare call her Cow just because she has brown spots!”

“Oh, come on! I was two when I got Zebra!”

She laughs at his indignant expression. He was two, but it’s not the day he got Zebra that comes to her mind. It’s his very first day and the solemn way Draco had vowed that he would grow.

She leaves him to get to know his new pet, warning him about the puppy’s ability to eat pretty much everything, and sneaks back to her own rooms. If she figured her timing right, she will avoid the repercussions until breakfast at least.

_It’s not like it’s the end of the world. I could have got an Abraxan after all. Or a Hippogriff._

She could, but she likes her heart beating and her lungs working, so she refrained from it. For now.

X

_King’s Cross Station, September 1 st, 2011_

Delphini is thrilled to go back to Hogwarts this year. She has her yellow and black sweater in her trunk waiting for its glory moment at Teddy’s first match. She also has her broomstick there, and Merlin has she missed it.

Repercussion from Scorpius new pet came in the shape of a day-long flying ban for every object chewed on by the Crup. Little Nala, as Teddy suggested after a Muggle movie, making them swear never to tell about the provenance of the name, has amounted enough days to last them these past three weeks and a couple more during Christmas break.

She is quick at finding her usual band of troublemakers in the crowd, including Teddy whose Grandmother always seems to be gone before Delphini can spot her. They chat for a while, eyeing the clock and willing it to go faster to no avail.

Delphini walks back to her family for the final goodbyes, promising to heed Uncle Lucius warnings about misbehaving, even though they both know she will not, kissing cheeks and being kissed in return, hugging only Scorpius. She takes one last glance at her family before she boards the train, her thoughts lingering on Astoria. She had been sick for three mornings straight and Draco has been overprotective to say the least, but she seems well enough.

 _It’s probably nothing. You are worrying for no reason_ , she thinks as she boards the train with her friends, making their way to the cabin they know will be empty because no one dares sit there.

X

_Hogwarts, October 31 st, 2011_

Everyone is restless in Defence Against the Dark Arts today. Because later today there will be a feast to celebrate Halloween, yes, but mostly because the forth years will have their first lesson with Auror Potter.

Half a dozen years ago, Headmistress McGonagall started inviting Auror Potter to teach D.A.D.A. He declined the full-time position at the school, but he’s happy to lead the students in a few classes every year. The first of such classes is always the _Patronus_ lesson for the forth years.

Auror Potter takes them out of the usual classroom and down to the Great Hall, where the tables and the long benches have been pushed against the walls. He orders them to spread out and get comfortable, as he moves to the dais where the teachers usually dine.

Delphini’s eyes never leave him, and she has to wonder about what he is thinking when he lingers a little by the spread-winged owl that decorates the pulpit, missing a couple of feathers on it’s right side. She doesn’t know why it was never fixed, but she supposes it’s another scar from the war.

Professor Potter, as they will refer to him for the duration of classes, explains the purpose and usage of the _Patronus_ charm, and how it was deemed necessary to teach students at Hogwarts earlier in their courses. Without allowing the usual shadows that come with the mention of war and Dementors to settle on them, he hops off the dais and stars walking between the students, correcting stands and movements before they start practising the spell itself. He makes sure everyone gets the pronunciation right too, and he is close enough to Delphini for her to see a happy glint of some memory in his eyes. Then, he starts coaching happy memories to the front of their minds, telling them to immerse themselves in them and to cast the spell whenever they feel ready.

“ _Expecto Patronus!_ ”

The Great Hall explodes in voices trying to bring their soul guardians to life. No one gets anything more than little flicks and specs of pale light. Professor Potter tells them not to let the frustration throw them off, that this is hard to get right, and that not many wizards can produce full body _Patronuses_ at their age. Most of the room scoffs in reply, because everyone knows he could.

Delphini has hundreds of happy memories to draw her magic from, and has a hard time picking one. She settles for coming home for Christmas last year, and light pours out of her wand, bright and glowing, shimmering with her pulse. She is so glad at the sight of it, and busy relishing the gasps of wonder from her classmates, that she lets the spell falter.

“Well done, Delphini!” No one is oblivious to the fact that not many students get first name treatment from a teacher, but they’ve had four years to adjust to Delphini getting certain privileges. No one loathes it because she is well known for her ability to get into trouble, and the amount of detentions she gets over a year evens out.

“ _Expecto Patronus!_ ” She enchants once more, focusing on Scorpius hug that night, and Aunt Narcissa’s thought, and Uncle Lucius hand on her shoulder. The burst of light re-emerges, but this time it flows more like water, a light orb that rises before her and takes the form of a panther. The graceful yet deadly creature canters through the air for some seconds and then fades like dissolving in the morning.

“Ten points to Slytherin for that! Never thought I’d ever say such a thing really,” Professor Potter says, with an honest smile on his face, eliciting laughs from the room, “now, everyone, full body _Patronuses_ are not the aim here, but they will get you points. Full marks for everyone that manages an orb. Come on, think happy thoughts!”

She takes the rest of the class to cast her _Patronus_ time and time again, holding on to it longer and longer. By the end of the lesson, her panther has chased plenty of orbs and a couple of animals too.

X

_Malfoy Manor, December 14 th, 2011_

There's a considerable pile of letters atop Lucius' desk. All of them displaying the Hogwarts crest.

 _How does she keep her grades up? She seems to be pranking someone every other day_ , he wonders, getting ready to tackle a series of Minerva McGonagall’s angry reports of unacceptable behaviour. There’s dropping unnecessary ingredients into Gryffindors’ cauldrons during Potions, levitating other students’ shoes while their feet are still inside them, and all sorts of little misdeeds.

Narcissa comes into his study sometime later, telling him that she has ordered Narkey to bring them hot tea. She settles on her armchair before the fire, and waits for him to settle on his.

“How is Astoria doing?”

“She is resting. Draco is with her. But I’m worried about our grandson, Lucius,” Narcissa’s eyes water, “we have to do something. He is trying to hide it, but he needs help. And he won’t talk to me.”

“Don’t worry, darling. Delphini will be home in a few days and Scorpius will be better,” he reaches for her hand, caressing it and taking it to his lips, to kiss her knuckles, “you know that he will open up to her.” He raises his eyes to hers and finds an old haunting there.

“But we still need to talk to Draco.”

X

_Hogwarts, December 16 th, 2011_

That very night, she puts her plan in action. It's their last night here before going home for Christmas and they are going to make the best out of it. Teddy was supposed to join them, but he found his way into detention with Professor Trelawney, after mimicking Delphini’s features in the classroom, causing the loss of several crystal balls.

Syrianna just sits on the bed, shaking her head.

"We are getting into a whole new world of trouble... This is a bad idea."

"It's brilliant! You have to admit it's going to be our ticket to glory!"

"Enough Reya! She doesn't need encouraging. And this is our ticket to nothing but out of Hogwarts! We'll be expelled!"

Delphini laughs, throwing her hair back, off her face, her eyes alight, barely holding on to their colour in anticipation. She walks out of their dorm, the other girls looking positively worried but still jealous of her defiance.

She wanders into the Common Room, and finds the boys with idiotic grins across their faces.

"Is it really on, Delphie? Can we start?" Radagast jumps off the sofa, excitement in every word. Sigmund giggles uncontrollably besides him.

"Yep! We'll take two beds. Syrianna may have to be dragged into this. Are you crying, Sig?" A burst of laughter answers her. "Hold it together, Sigmund!"

They walk back inside their dorms. Freya has the same grin as her twin brother. They point their wands and release mayhem. Just before they leave, Syrianna throws her cares to the wind and joins them.

X

Filch will spend a great long many days trying to understand what is happening. He'll probably need several hours just to be able to tell the Headmistress _anything_ in a coherent manner.

Three Slytherin fourth grade girls smile at him in challenge half way down a corridor. Two sitting on a mattress, the other standing on it, holding her wand like she is conducting an orchestra. The canopy bed is several inches off the floor. It hovers in his direction, the emerald green curtains dancing in the air. Another bed passes behind, going down the intersecting corridor, a boy lost in loud joyous bursts while another stands proudly, wand pointed straight ahead, wind in his golden brown hair.

"Students in the corridors! Stu-stu-students out of-" he stops. They aren't really, are they?

X

"The rules are clear, Headmistress. No students out of bed past curfew. We didn't leave the beds!"

Minerva is at a loss for words. The girl looks perfectly innocent. Not her eyes though, those shimmer with mischief from behind long black eyelashes. Minerva recovers her composure and raises her chin.

"The rules also state no magic in the corridors, Miss Lestrange! Plus staying in a flying bed while commanding it around the castle is hardly abiding by curfew!"

 _This bunch might just turn out to be worse than the Weasley twins_ , she thinks _. And the Marauders. Put together._

She huffs her exasperation and hugs her robe closer to her nightgown.

"Fifty points will be taken from Slytherin, for each of you! There will be detention, long hours of it, upon your return to Hogwarts."

Syrianna is relieved to hear of returning. There is no way the House of Slytherin is going to recover from that loss any time soon but they will be heroes for the rest of the school year. And then some. So there is a smile in the corner of their lips. Except for Sigmund, he is still shaking.

"I will discuss the matter of punishment with Professor Slughorn. Now, to bed with you all. And do stop behaving like a deranged cackling hyena, Mr. Morton."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, I will." Hiccups punctuate his sentence and they all snort, holding on to their stomachs.

"Out! Mr. Filch stop standing there like a gaping goatfish and make sure they go straight to the dungeons!" One last glare at the barely straight-faced group and she sees them from her office.

"Don't worry, Minerva. I will personally escort them to the dorms and make sure they stay in there. The furniture too. We can discuss detention in the morning." Slughorn nods his leave, dwelling on the possibility of retiring for good.

X

_King’s Cross Station, December 17 th, 2011_

Lucius is on the platform, awaiting his niece. Scorpius has wandered off with some other children so he keeps scouting the place visually, making sure he knows where the white blond head is at all times. He knows it wasn’t a bad idea to bring Scorpius, but keeping him in sight takes work. Narcissa was out and Astoria looked so gaunt that morning that he couldn’t say no. The boy needs distraction.

When Delphini comes down from the train, she is all poise, her regal stance setting her apart, even amongst her carefully groomed friends. She likes the way all heads turn when she walks, her curls flowing in a cascade after her. A perfect scion of the House of Black.

She finds her Uncle’s gaze and just knows, without any hint of a doubt, that the news made it home before she could. An early owl, for sure. She says her goodbyes, knowing there will be a gathering at Malfoy Manor and that it won’t be long before they can all gather to steal a bottle of fire whiskey and chase peacocks across the lawns. Then, she faces the storm in Uncle Lucius eyes.

“Do you think yourself a Gryffindor?” Is all he says, the purest despise at the mention of _it_. He just manages to hide his pride at her magical prowess.

Scorpius shows up out of nowhere, a broad smile and an excited spring on his step. It seems the distraction has worked. Even if Delphini still notices the dark circles under his eyes.

“I read the letter too. Is it true that you levitated a bed out of the dormitories? And that Filch found you-“

“Not another word, Scorpius. Your cousin is no example for you. We will discuss the matter at home.” His voice is sharp as glass and cold as ice. He turns his back on them and starts walking. They follow, exchanging bright smiles that promise giggles in the night.

X

But when they arrive home, there’s a heaviness to the air. Draco is not here to welcome her and she can feel his distressed mind all the way from his wing of the manor.

“Scorpius,” her voice becoming wary, “what’s going on?”

“Mummy is sick.”

_So the curse is back._

Her thoughts are interrupted by a sudden set of arms around her waist and a silvery head against her chest. She feels the little boy’s trembling on her body and wraps her arms around him too. Uncle Lucius puts his palm between her shoulder blades. His eyes say ‘we’ll talk later’ but the sad smile on his lips tells her not to worry, to take care of what she has closest to a brother. He leaves them alone in the entrance hall.

They stand there for a while, Delphini cradling Scorpius head against her chest, slowly rocking them, humming a tune she remembers from when she was little and Aunt Narcissa held her in her arms for an entire afternoon.

She reaches for his chin, his very Malfoy, pointy chin, and turns his head up so that they can look each other in the eye.

“You’ll be fine. No matter what happens, I’ve got you. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t answer but she can see it in his eyes. Because putting it down in words would make it all real and he still hopes that this is all just a nightmare. He is afraid, that is obvious from his face, but she can also sense something else in his mind and it feels unbearably familiar. She holds him closer, refusing to let tears fall down her face, but she knows that the shadow that haunts him is the same that haunted her. And she is both heartbroken and furious at Draco for doing it all over again. To Scorpius, of all people.

“Have you been sleeping?”

“No,” he whispers into her sleeve, “I don’t want to have those dreams again. But no one knows,” he raises his head to her again, “because I pretend to be sleeping when they check on me. Promise not to tell anyone?”

She nearly chuckles at that. A perfectly composed Malfoy to the world, but a crumbling mess inside, at the age of eight.

“Promise. But you will drink some _Dreamless Sleep_ and rest until dinner. I’ll wake you up, you will have dinner and not push your food around on the plate, and then some more _Dreamless Sleep_. No arguing.”

He nods, but claims he can’t just go to bed or the others will know and worry about him. He doesn’t want anyone else worrying over anyone else. So she gets a small vial from her belongings and gives it to Scorpius in the piano room. He does ask her why she has that potion, but she gives him a warning glance and he promptly accepts the drops she offers him. She sits on the sofa and he cuddles up against her, not really on her lap but close enough. Delphini Conjures a blanket and covers him.

_Because I have dreams I don’t want to have too._

And she sits there thinking about those dreams. Stars and serpents. Blood and smoke. And darkness all around her. And sometimes, a dangerous witch with a victim at her feet.

X

Narcissa walks into the piano room, her hands gathered, fiddling with her rings. She finds Delphini there already, as Lucius told her she would, holding Scorpius close as he sleeps peacefully. She tells her she’s sorry she wasn’t at the station, but Delphini dismisses it. She knows her Aunt was dosed with sleeping potions too. Narcissa figures her eyes must still be glazed from the induced rest.

“Why wasn’t I told of any of this in your letters?” Delphini’s tone is biting, sharp.

“Because concerning you with Astoria changed nothing.”

“Nothing? I didn’t write a word of consolation, of comfort, to Scorpius for months! Because you didn’t tell me! And since you saw no need to bother me, neither did he. What’s wrong with her? Is it the blasted curse again?”

“Language! No, it’s not the curse. Or it wasn’t,” Aunt Narcissa avoids her eyes, hiding a shadow in hers, “it was a miscarriage. Six weeks ago.” Delphini feels the hurt emanating from the witch sitting across her, so she does not push it. Yet she needs one more piece of information.

“Does Scorpius know that he was going to be a big brother?”

Narcissa does not talk to her, simply shaking her head instead. That gets her fuming. They have been hiding things from the both of them. No wonder Scorpius is completely lost in all this.

She is too angry to have a proper, rational conversation about it. And she does not want to wake Scorpius. So she decides against arguing right now, taking what comfort she can from her Aunt’s presence by her side, armouring herself for what needs to be done.

X

It’s late at night when she gets the chance to act. She had dinner with Uncle Lucius, Aunt Narcissa and Scorpius, then made sure Scorpius was asleep before she came here. Draco was sitting by the bed, holding Astoria’s hand in his, his eyes absolutely empty, shinning from the moonlight alone. She got him out of the bedroom and into his study so that they could talk.

“You need to snap out of it! Scorpius is suffering too, can’t you see? You can’t just shut yourself in here and leave him out. That’s his mother in that bed you know? And all he has seen of you in weeks, weeks Draco, is a sobbing mess that won’t pay him much attention.”

Delphini has been talking to Draco for several minutes now, obtaining no response. It’s a lot like talking _at_ him actually.

“Do you need him to dye his hair brown and figure a way to turns his eyes brown too before you pay attention?”

That does it. It’s painful for the both of them, but it works. It snaps Draco out of his stupor. His first look at her, the first real one, focused on her and not on the wall beyond her, is positively furious.

But the second one is filled with pain and sorrow, the special kind of misery that fills the eyes of a father when he fails his children.

“I’m sorry, Delphie,” his breathing is strained, “I’m so sorry that I hurt you. I’m so sorry that I hurt him.”

“You are hurting him still! Every night you spend by her side and don’t leave for ten miserable minutes to be with him, you do. Every day you ignore him out of being worried into a stupor, you do. So get up, get it together for a while and go fix him! You can break all you want in here, after you make sure _he_ is not broken.”

It’s painful, it’s brutal, but it needed saying. And so she does not regret it. She feels proud of it as Draco rises from his seat, combing his hair with his fingers, telling her that he will make himself look decent and see to his son.

She has fixed the wings of the dragon when Astoria couldn’t. Instead of her, so that her boy can be kept safe in their embrace.

Only then does she tell him that Scorpius will be asleep until noon, judging from the amount of drops of _Dreamless Sleep_ she laced his milk with. She leaves with the promise of him waking up his son the following morning, and taking proper care of him.

X

_Diagon Alley, December 28 th, 2011_

Delphini stands before Gringotts, amidst the falling snow in the frigid morning. She has finally been allowed to come here alone. Her Uncle had insisted on accompanying her here, but her Aunt made him see that this is something for her to do alone.

Christmas had been gloom this year, even with Astoria finally starting to show some improvement, even if that only amounted to a couple of waking hours each day. There was no Christmas gathering at the Manor to distract Scorpius, so she decided he needed a proper cheer up with a bunch of late gifts. That was her leverage to get here. The gifts will soon be delivered to Malfoy Manor, which means she is free to take her time now.

She walks inside, head held high. Most wizards and witches stare, and there is a hum throughout the hall. Stopping in front of an ugly looking goblin, she informs him of her desire to be lead to her vault. He asks for her wand as proof of identity and proceeds to guide her to the depths of the bank.

She is left alone inside her vault. She takes the time to look around and even to pick up the inventory the Ministry of Magic left behind in a neat leather folder. She doesn’t care to open it, not now. She cares only for that one thing she saw the first time she was here. Not here, just outside the door.

A dark blue velvet box. A silver _D_ engraved on the lid. She scans her Mother’s belongings, looking for the one she is absolutely sure was left for her. She finds it on a shelf to her left, with a dull string tied around it and a tag that reads _‘Remain despite unknown contents, on Auror Potter’s orders’_.

_I must thank him._

Her long fingers caress the velvet that no dust has settled on, drifting over her initial, which feels much colder and harder next to the soft and not-entirely-cold fabric. She decides against opening it here. This is a present to savour under her veil, back at home.

She takes her time perusing the books in the vault. She forces herself to take only three. She tucks them inside her satchel, along with the box.

X

She is back at the Manor when she retrieves the box from her dragon leather satchel. Delphini settles on her bed, legs crossed, facing the windows, the veil dripping from the canopy to cocoon her in.

She touches both thumbs to the lock at the front of the box, two snakes entwined together that move under her skin as she touches them. She lifts the lid carefully, reverently, taking her time in revealing the contents. There’s a note on a small embellished bit of parchment, right in the centre of the interior, over the folds of black velvet that keep her gift secure and hidden.

_‘To my daughter and heiress, Delphini’_

It is not signed, but she immediately knows it’s from her Father. She has seen her Mother’s handwriting in old letters that Aunt Narcissa keeps. This is not hers. This is cursive and sharp, elegance and purpose to every stroke. She places it on the bed, beside her, tenderly. Then she spreads the dark velvet folds.

A silver chain of delicate, tiny links is visible first. Then the gemstones emerge. Small black diamonds, in a precise pattern, held there by minute and yet detailed dragon’s claws that drop from the chain, linked together in between them as well.

Her breath catches in her throat. Delphini, the constellation, is before her. Not just Alpha Delphini, but all of the stars. There’s Omega too. Her mind can’t help but wonder if that is the one she was named after. Is she the end? Was she meant to be the end? Is that why she is also the dark one?

She loses track of time in her thoughts.

Uncle Lucius comes looking for her and finds her adoring the necklace with her eyes and fingers. He approaches her from behind and takes a peek at what she’s holding, and at the box on the bed. She notices how he stiffens at the sight of the little note.

“That’s my Father’s writing, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replies after a small gulp, “it is. That present waited a long time to be given…” He trails off. Delphini can’t see what left him so shaken about the gift, but he is.

She huffs quietly. She keeps trying to learn things about her Father when she is home, but her entire family seems to dodge the subject. All she gets are short, cropped answers that leave no room for more questions. She decides to prey on her Uncle’s unease.

“Do you think he would like to see me wearing it?” She punctuates her question with a turn of her head, directing her eyes square into his, raising the innermost part of her eyebrows.

“Yes, he-he would. He really would.”

His answer is so hesitant that she feels like breaking their unspoken pact and simply look into his mind. What is it? Is it remorse that they are here caring for her while her Father is in Azkaban? Is it that they never took her to see him? Is it that they never tried to have him released?

“Do you think he is very cold in there?” Her Uncle’s face draws such a blank that she knows he is pulling all his power into shielding his mind. He is also utterly confused, she can tell from the way his eyes focus again on her but only after a few moments. “You know, in Azkaban?”

She can see how every part of his body relaxes after her last question. His brows, his jaw, his neck, his shoulders, his arms, his hands that are no longer fists, every part of his body stops behaving like a coil getting ready and instead stretches minutely, peacefully.

“Rodolphus? I suppose so. Azkaban is unforgiving,” she can see the light go out a bit in his eyes as he speaks to her, lost in sorrowful memories “it’s a miserable place, really. But I shouldn’t tell you of it.” He shakes his head, like he’s getting rid of an annoying bug, making his long white-gold and silver hair dance on his back and over his shoulders.

He bids her goodbye with a gesture, already moving towards the door. Delphini has no idea why he came inside in the first place. Maybe just to check on her, maybe to tell her something important. Whatever the reason, he completely forgot after her questions.

She keeps her eyes on the double doors, as her fingers caress the jewellery in her hands, thinking. Whenever she asks of her Father, her family has a way of referring to him as either Father or Rodolphus, and they never sound like they’re talking about the same person.

That night, the less frequent dream of the avenging witch begins as usual, but is interrupted by the usual stars and serpents, blood and smoke, dark places and shadows. For the first time in that dream though, there’s hissing. Parseltongue in a voice she recognizes but cannot place. And he, because the voice comes from a man, talks of prophecies and birds.

She wakes up clutching her Mother’s pendant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’m a bit late, but here it is. Apparently, 5k is my new number.  
> Now, keep me writing (and on schedule) by letting me know what you think.


	42. The Curse in Her Eyes

_Malfoy Manor, December 31st, 2011_

Uncle Lucius comes looking for her in her bedroom. She is sitting cross-legged on the floor, before the fireplace, sitting sideways to the flames. Delphini raises her eyes from her Care of Magical Creatures course book, pulling her curls up into a ponytail that lasts only a second, before she lets them down in all their glory. There's a glint in her Uncle's eyes that she has come to know as the 'your Mother used to do that' look. She thinks it curious that there isn't one that concerns her Father too.

"There's a matter that needs to be tended to," he tells her as he takes a seat on the armchair before the fireplace, "but first, you should know that I'm proud of you. What you did for Scorpius, what you did for Draco…" He doesn't finish the sentence, letting the words linger in the air, setting slowly.

"Don't mention it. They're family, you're family. You do what you have to do for your family."

Uncle Lucius doesn't smile. No, he adopts the smug smirk-that's-not-a-smirk of superiority only he possesses. And Delphini smiles brightly, for the both of them, for that smirk means all the pride and all the love he cannot express through words.

Still, there's something they need to talk about. And that changes his features to a stern mask.

"Your behaviour at Hogwarts, Delphini, seems to be lacking in moderation."

"Don't worry," her bright smile has evaporated now, "I'll stop. You have enough to worry about in here, I won't add to your concerns." She closes the book, using a white peacock feather to mark the page, caressing the leather biding. She thinks this book is much better. The one from last year bit.

"Thank you, sweet star of darkness," his sternness is gone, as he raises from his seat, "for everything." He caresses her curls and then her cheek and she can't help but lean into his hand. Then he says,

"You do realize there's a tradition in this family. You become a Prefect in your fifth year." There's an honestly amused smile on his lips. Hers is the cheekiest she can manage.

"That's a Malfoy tradition. Last time I checked, I was a Lestrange."

She can't help but notice the half-a-moment-long shimmer of anxiety in her Uncle's eyes. But it vanishes immediately. So does her smile. Delphini fears she has hurt him.

"I'm sorry, that was crass."

"I'll have none of your apologies," when she turns her eyes up to him, he's looking at her the same way Aunt Narcissa does when she thinks no one's watching, "you know what you are to me. You know I think of you as much more than my niece, no matter your surname."

Her eyes well with emotion. Her eyes turn grey. In a rare occurrence, she forgets about handling her books with care, and gets up hastily. She hugs him, and he holds her as close as he can, breathing in the scent of her hair as he plants a light kiss on her forehead.

"Just promise me you'll behave tonight, watch over Scorpius and his Crup, and make sure your friends leave the peacocks alone." She giggles into his robes. As long as they're not caught, chasing peacocks will always be on their to do list.

"I'll behave. So will Scorpius, and Nala. I'll just finish my assignment, and then I'll get ready. I'll be welcoming guests with you and Aunt Cissa at the door."

X

She is there, later, by their side. Clad in dark blue brocade, cut to be sharp around her figure, making her look regal and a bit beyond her years, but the glint in her eyes reminds everyone of the mischievous fourteen year old witch that talked her friends into flying furniture through the hallways of Hogwarts. The bird skull removed for once, the constellation necklace sits on her neck, shimmering in the light, earning compliments on its beauty, on how it suits her.

She greets every guest politely. Draco is by her side, with a hand on Scorpius' shoulder. The little boy keeps pulling at his collar, Narcissa fixes it every now and then. He's impatient, he wants to go and play with the other children, all equally dressed in miniature versions of very proper adults, all pulling and pushing at the places where their attire isn't quite as loose as they would like.

Once everyone is inside, Delphini takes Scorpius upstairs, to kiss his Mother goodnight. Astoria is still very pale, and the healer hasn't allowed her to walk about as usual yet, so she'll rest while the guests celebrate the New Year downstairs. Nala will keep her company, an assurance that the Crup won't chew on anyone's shoes or destroy yet another chair.

Delphini is sure Draco will find a way to evade the party and come spend midnight with Astoria anyway, so she takes it upon herself to keep an eye on Scorpius. Mostly, she worries about him hearing the rumours, the mean whispers that she hears at the fringes of the party. Rumours dark and cloy. Rumours that go quiet once she approaches. But she hears bits just the same. And once they go quiet, she can still hear them in the guests’ minds.

“He’s supposed to be the Dark Lord’s, you know?”

_They never really gave up on the cause._

“They used a Time Turner to send her back.”

_They were already raising the Lestrange girl, but that wasn’t enough for the Malfoys._

“Why do you think she was so sick when she was pregnant? It was his seed.”

_Serves her right for all that ambition. Serves them all right that she is going to die._

“That’s why she’s not here. She’s too sick because of it.”

_He looks quite normal, but so did Tom Riddle, they say._

“You don’t suppose they did it again, do you?”

_I do. But it didn’t stick this time around. That will teach them._

Her mind is racing through possible meanings. The pictures in their minds speak of the unthinkable, of the unmentionable, of something that, should it be true, would have all of her family locked in that place Uncle Lucius would rather not speak of.

Above anything, her mind is reeling with ideas and plans to keep Scorpius away from these people. Aunt Narcissa knows, too. They exchange a look, across the ballroom, and Delphini knows she knows. It becomes easier after midnight, shielding Scorpius from the gossip. The spirits have flowed for a while then, minds are slurred, and tongues are heavier. But no less sharp for it.

The rumours die after a very drunk middle-aged wizard, and his notorious circumference of a waist, stumble too close to Uncle Lucius, making jokes about his daughter-in-law ‘after-hours affair with Lord Voldemort’, and inquiring about ‘little lord Malfoy’ and whether he would follow his father’s footsteps or not.

Uncle Lucius’ glare is absolutely murderous, and the wizard suddenly remembers who he used to be, what he used to do. Delphini sees it clearly in the man’s mind. She feels like murdering him herself, but only before the picture of a dead House-Elf startles her conscience. She is just thankful Scorpius is outside tormenting the white birds. She is just thankful Draco is upstairs already, because something tells her they would not be able to stop him.

The celebration fades quickly after the incident. The well-meaning guests offer words of comfort and their disdain for the sharped-tongued people attending, but the mood is gone. Delphini stands with Aunt Narcissa at the door, thanking people for coming, wishing a Happy New Year to everyone, hugging her friends despite protocol.

When they are all gone, she searches the gardens and the house, looking for her little cousin. She finds him curled up on an armchair, and immediately thinks that he must have heard something. That maybe the children his age reproduced something said by their parents. She rushes to his side, caressing his blond hair as she goes, but all she finds is a sleeping boy wrapped around a Crup.

She levitates his sleeping body upstairs, all the way to his bed, a happy little Nala swiftly following in her steps, jumping in bed and under the sheets as well. When Delphini turns around, Draco is smirking by the doorjamb.

“You do realize that’s dangerous? Not to mention illegal? You could have dropped him.”

“We both know that the Ministry traces are easy to confound. And that I’m very good at levitating people.” She smiles broadly, as she points her wand at her shoes and levitates herself out of the room, a whole foot off the floor.

Draco attempts to hide his laughter, but fails miserably. Delphini is just happy that she’s managed to lift the mood on this wing of the manor.

“Happy New Year, Draco!”

“Happy New Year, little bird! Sleep tight.”

She takes one last glance over her shoulder, before she takes a corner and the sight of him is no longer there. The warmth of his thoughts remains, though, and Delphini floats on it on her way to her own bedroom.

She puts her palm to the mahogany doors. She doesn’t know why her door works like that, but she likes that it’s the only one that does. Just before she closes it shut behind her, Aunt Narcissa is there, stopping it.

Delphini turns back and smiles. But her aunt does not smile back.

“Those rumours, Delphini, those things you heard just now at the party,” her eyes look deeply into hers, telling her to pay close attention, “they may follow you back to Hogwarts…”

“Don’t worry, I won’t lose control over silly rumours.”

Her curls are tucked behind her right ear by a gentle hand. A pair of silken lips kiss her forehead.

“Just be careful, Delphie.”

She can tell there’s a heavy weight behind those words, mountains left unsaid somehow. But that is a conversation for another time.

So she changes into her long nightgown and takes Guivre from its branch. The snake is happy that she’s home for a few days, and finds its way into her warm bed every night anyway, so she decides to just let him coil around her tonight. Her Kneazle is happy to stay at the end of the bed, and the raven feels too much like a meal around the both of them to even approach the bed. Delphini slides in under the covers, hugging her soft pillow, and falls asleep to the feeling of scales against her skin and the smell of roses.

X

_King's Cross Station, January 3rd, 2012_

She hugs Scorpius one last time, holding him much longer, and much tighter. Draco has taken a couple of steps away from the, giving them space. It’s just the three of them this time.

"It will be alright, Scorpius. If you can't sleep, I made more _Dreamless Sleep_ with Draco. Ask him to give you some. I also made _Draught of Peace_ , I left it in the top drawer of your nightstand for when you wake up from your nightmares." She is holding his chin up, so that they can hold each other's gaze as she reassures him, "I'll write to you every week, and you need to write back so that I know you're doing alright. If you don't, I'll get my broomstick and fly home, do you hear me? If you need me to come home, tell me, I'll get a permission out of McGonagall."

"And if she says no?"

"I'll charm a bed and fly it home just to teach her."

He giggles, and she's happy that she could make him smile. He desperately needs some happiness.

She needs people to stop staring. It isn’t just at her that they are staring this time. It isn’t just her that’s being observed. The rumours are making their rounds through wizarding society, it seems, and she does not like it. They are malicious. They are hurting her family, and she feels compelled to send them on their way sooner rather than later. She doesn’t want to expose Scorpius to anymore of this.

"Now you, Draco" she says, turning to her cousin, walking to him, "you need to write to me too. Let me know how Astoria is doing, and let me know how _you_ are." Her voice is commanding and unapologetic. These two have been hiding far too much, and she won't have it anymore.

"I have a feeling Darkie may just decide to reside at the Manor and retire from his courier duties." He doesn't smile, but it's close enough, and she can compromise, for now.

"Let him. Feed him treats and reward him for desertion for all I care, but send an owl to me!"

X

_Hogwarts, March 10 th, 2012_

The rumours are here. She can sometimes hear the gossip, but her peers have learnt to keep them quiet around her. A whole series of unfortunate events has befallen a certain group of defiant students, and although the entire school knows it’s her wand that bears the signature, they cannot actually accuse her of anything. She makes sure of it.

She has just emerged from the Chamber. It is her place of election when she needs to calm her mind, to feel cold water on her skin so as to keep her magic from simply reacting. She is also finding her way to the Astronomy Tower more often than not these nights, and the Baron actually worries about her destroyed sleeping schedule, but the usual potions don’t do much anymore.

It’s the dreams. The usual ones and the ones the rumours have created. The ones where Astoria dies and she can’t convince Scorpius it wasn’t his fault. The one where the Ministry and Auror Potter come for her family, to take Draco away, to take Uncle Lucius to Azkaban again, to forbid her from ever seeing Aunt Narcissa again. She always casts silencing spells on her bed, but she worries they may falter, she worries her dorm mates, her friends, will notice something is off. So, some nights, she sleeps in the Chamber as well.

So she takes her frustration out every Friday at the duelling club. She beats one opponent after the other, careful to restrain her magic, careful to keep from getting carried away in the heat of the fight.

That keeps her up too. She likes the fight. It’s not that she likes to hurt the others, but she likes victory, she likes the power that comes from it. That is what eventually quiets the rumours in the Common Room. The House of Slytherin comes to a clear understanding that Spring. Delphini is not to be messed with. Delphini can make them pay and get away with it. The students Delphini makes pay for their unwise words never talk of her actions. They simply become afraid, respectful, some even become reverent.

The faculty has noticed it too. She walks differently now. There’s a commanding stance to her gait, power in her eyes. But they are used to the Houses having natural leaders that embody the virtues of each founder, and a Slytherin queen is nothing new. Delphini has seen it in their minds, capturing their thoughts during meals at the Great Hall. They also know about the rumours, and it is perfectly logical for them that she would shield herself against them, wear her poise and her upbringing as armour. They all think so. All but Headmistress McGonagall, who is quite sure that something is off, and very uncomfortable about the fact that she can’t put her finger on it.

Teddy worries. A lot. He can see her cracks, he knows her better than anyone at Hogwarts. He sees the dark circles under her eyes; he notices how her uniform doesn’t suit her as pristinely as it usually does. He keeps feeding her, small portions at a time, like one does a sick relative. A biscuit here, a glass of milk there, a square of chocolate dropped in her pocket, a piece of fruit left by her books in the library. He is the only one she allows in, but always keeping him at bay from the real issues. Even her friends see only her veneer these days.

But today, Delphini is throwing all that to the wind. It’s early, very early. The sun is just starting to creep up to the hallways, still immersed in slumber. She treads her path back to the dungeons. She will shower, for a long time, lavishing in soap and shampoo, then dress for breakfast, and write a letter home, to Scorpius.

Astoria is doing much better, they tell her in their letters, but much better seems to go no further than what she used to be like when Scorpius was little. The curse was allowed a way back in, and it won’t let go this time. Delphini knows it, and so do they, but no one puts a quill to that fear. So she inquires only about the good things, hoping that she can shield the little boy from reality with nothing but happy thoughts. It doesn’t work that way, she knows, but she must try.

Her housemates make some remarks about her choice of clothing today. She had already used it for the November match of Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw, but the yellow and black sweater is still riling up feathers amongst the snakes. A glare from her and they all know not to mention it again. Her relationship with Teddy is not their business. He wears green to Slytherin matches, she wears yellow to Hufflepuff’s. Matters are not made easier by the fact that both the lions and the eagles have fallen behind on the Quidditch Cup this year already, which means the Slytherins are all sort of cheering for Gryffindor this time.

The match will clear her head she knows. Maybe it will even raise her spirits. If Quidditch doesn’t work, she is sending Teddy to Hogsmeade the following day, so that he can spend all of her money on stuff that will drive Filch up the walls every day until Easter break. She can’t go. Flying beds through the corridors earned her detention every Sunday until the end of the year, a ban from Hogsmeade visits, and an ever growing pile of extra homework. It seems Professor Slughorn thinks that as long as she is busy studying, she won’t have the time to plan another stunt. Her accomplices are serving the same sentence, but the faculty has been extremely diligent with detention, making sure that they are never assigned the same task simultaneously. They don’t really trust the lot of them together anymore.

Hufflepuff wins and the Slytherins take a moment to do the maths concerning the Cup, right before they forget all about it and indulge in mocking the Gryffindors relentlessly for a week straight. Delphini makes her contribution by charming badgers showing lions getting hit by a yellow Bludger with blue hair to move, and to change to ‘Gryffs are Gone’ when tossed at a wall.

At the end of the week, Delphini is awake in her bed, wishing for a night without dreams. Missing home like she never has before. She does manage to fall asleep on her own, but the nightmares come barging through her mind. From the blood and smoke emerges an image of Astoria lying in her bed, much too pale, much too still, while Scorpius sobs so painfully in a corner that Delphini awakes with a gasp. There are tears flowing freely down her face. She reinforces the spells on the closed curtains of her bed and allows her fear to run out of her in sobs of her own. When they still, she drops some more rose essence on her pillow. Then searches her bedside table drawer with her long fingers, pulling out a small wooden box filled with little vials. The majority of them are already empty, but there’s enough _Draught of Peace_ and _Dreamless Sleep_ to soothe her. She doesn’t want to risk it though, so she gets up, grabbing her wand, foregoing shoes or slippers, and dashes to the Astronomy Tower.

The Bloody Baron comes to her only a few minutes after she reaches it. The cling-clanging of his chains is a welcomed sound. His hand is very cold on her shoulder, but she doesn’t move away. She needs the cold. She wants it, craves it. It’s the only thing that will numb her pain now.

“You need to sleep child,” he hisses to her, and she finds comfort in that sound too, “you can’t carry on like this. Go to the matron, tell her. Spend a weak sleeping in there, she’ll take care of you. Make up some story to cover it up if you must, but you need to sleep properly.”

She doesn’t answer him. He knows of the rumours, he knows of her fears. What he does not know is of the other dreams. The avenging witch. The man that hisses to her in Parseltongue. The smoke, the blood, the serpents. The darkness. If she won’t tell him, how could she ever tell Madam Pomfrey why she can’t sleep?

X

_Malfoy Manor, April 2 nd, 2012_

Delphini is finally home. She can’t remember ever missing her family as much as she has this last term. She is sitting in her bed, and she knows it must be early, because the sun is barely over the horizon and the moors are still covered in mist. But she is well rested.

She remembers coming to bed on Saturday, after dinner, feeling absolutely exhausted. The train seemingly taking forever to reach London. She remembers how soothingly her veil enveloped her, how soft Vicious’ fur felt against her face, how delicate were the hands that adjusted her covers around her. And then there was nothing.

If it weren’t for the magical calendar ripping its own pages off with every midnight, Delphini wouldn’t even know that today is Monday. She blinks her eyes very slowly, rubbing them a bit, making sure she is not seeing things.

_I’ve slept for over a day… how did I do that?_

There’s an empty glass and a small plate with crumbles on it on her bedside table, so maybe someone managed to get her to wake up for some groggy ten minutes and eat something. Her stomach growls and twists in its emptiness.

She decides to get out of bed and have breakfast in the kitchens, right in front of the fire that burns eternally in the hearth. She takes Guivre with her, letting the snake happily coil himself on her arm, under her nightgown. Vicious simply takes a place by her side at the table, waiting for his share of her breakfast.

Once she is sated, she decides on having a conversation that is long overdue with a certain portrait. So she makes her way to the closed wing of the manor.

“Is this the wing where the Dark Lord used to live?”

The man in the portrait jolts awake at the sound of her voice. Delphini hears the clocks strike seven in the distance, all the way from the other wings of the Manor. This one has been silent and mostly empty for as long as she can remember.

“I beg your pardon, Miss…”

“Lestrange. Delphini Lestrange,” she introduces herself, realizing that this portrait doesn’t even know her, she comes here so rarely, “and you are?”

“Brutus Malfoy. I apologize for our previous encounter. I thought you were someone else.”

“I know. You thought I was my Mother, Bellatrix Lestrange. You assumed I was her and that she was going to visit the Dark Lord, why?”

Brutus Malfoy takes a couple of minutes to peruse her, before speaking again.

“The resemblance is astonishing. Your eyes are not hers, though.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Plenty of people have told me that I have my Father’s eyes. Enough dodging, answer my question.”

If portraits could become pale, Delphini could swear Brutus Malfoy had just lost three layers of colour. He seems completely rattled by her words, and she is positively furious she cannot get into his mind, or pick his thoughts from the air.

“I c-c-can’t. I can’t talk to you, not about that. Not about him.”

It’s like he has come to some sort of realization about her. Something he clearly fears.

“Why not?”

“I’m bound to the will of the Master of the Manor. He made it clear to all of us that speaking of the Dark Lord was not allowed after the war. A couple of us were relocated to this wing when we wouldn’t obey. He made sure we were aware that the next step would involve a pyre.”

He is obviously disgusted by the notion of being burned, but he seems truly afraid of talking to her about Lord Voldemort. It seems to be a constant in her life. Given the lack of answers to be found in the Manor, she will simply have to wait until she is back at Hogwarts and has an entire section on the British Wizarding Wars of the XX Century to explore.

She is annoyed, but only for a second. She can’t bring her mind to care right now. Until she is back at Hogwarts, she will sleep. And not dream.

X

_Hogwarts, April 17 th, 2012_

Delphini is in the Chamber. It’s late, she has heard the clock strike its chimes at least twice past midnight. She is completely lost in the pages of a book. One of the books that she brought from her Mother’s vault. It’s about _Legilimency_ , and that is enough to make it interesting to her, but she is currently reading its last section, on _Occlumency_.

She clearly remembers Draco teaching her a little, a tiny snippet actually, of this, when she was very little and the Ministry had insisted on appraising her. She still keeps that secret, and she still knows how to hide it in a corner of her mind, but this book mentions things much more interesting.

She can teach herself to pierce people’s minds properly. More importantly, she can shield her mind against intrusion. She can turn her conscience into a box of secrets, like the one she has hidden here. The embellished, dark wood box where she keeps precious little things. The first shedding from Guivre, a feather from Darkie, the silver bell from a collar that Vicious Mist outgrew. The note from her Father, the note from Scorpius that made her go back home. The wrapping of one of Teddy’s chocolates. A preserved rose from the gardens of the Manor. A lone emerald earring from Draco’s wedding. All apparently devoid of value, but all little pieces of her.

She turns another page and finds a picture. A young woman that looks like her. Her Mother, smiling, laughing at something a young wizard says to her. Her Father, she realizes. The man in the picture is Rodolphus Lestrange, the Father she does not remember. The man her family doesn’t really speak of. He is smiling too, obviously happy.

She turns the picture and reads the little scribble there.

_‘With Bella, outside Castle Lestrange. Summer, 1973’_

She frowns. That handwriting is not the same from the little note that came with her necklace. She gets up, setting the book carefully on her seat, twisting the photograph in her fingers. Then she simply stands in the middle of the Chamber, looking closer at the happy pair.

That’s when she sees it. Rodolphus’ eyes are nowhere near green. The green in her eyes, the emeralds she uses to see the world with, are not like Rodolphus’ eyes at all. He has dark brown, almond-shaped eyes. Hers have the shape of her Mother’s. Large and wide, sculpted in her face, that has finally grown to accommodate them. The semblance between them is nothing new.

But the eyes. Her eyes are wrong. Her eyes should not be green.

 _‘You have your Father’s eyes.’_ How many times has she heard that? How many times have people had eerie reactions to her eyes? How come her eyes are not Rodolphus’ then?

Is that why her family is always so reluctant to speak of him? So reluctant to speak of her Father? Because she is not her Mother’s husband’s daughter?

She is a bastard, she realizes. The Lestrange name does not belong to her. She is a Black. And that’s not as conflicting as it probably should. Because she has always felt drawn to her Black side, more than to her Lestrange half, that isn’t even there apparently.

She is something else then, someone else’s half.

And her family most have known, all along. Her eyes blaze red, she can feel them change.

She is so furious that she takes it out on the Chamber, destroying some of the snake heads that embellish the walls, her spell work ricocheting here and there, and Delphini dancing in between it all. She is utterly exhausted when it’s over, but she knows the dreams will come to her tonight, and so she does not want to sleep.

She sits there thinking. Planning. She needs answers. The Malfoys won’t give them away, so she must go to her best source. Rodolphus Lestrange. He must know who her father is, if it is not him. Her eyes remain red, she knows, but she is much too concerned to bother with changing them back. She doesn’t want them to be green right now, anyway. She is busy planning a way to get answers.

Except Rodolphus is locked up in Azkaban. She sits there, very still, twisting the moving photograph. She eventually drifts off to sleep, her head lolling for a while before her body crumbles on the not so comfortable high chair she managed to Conjure.

She dreams of a mighty serpent. Huge, deeply green, dark reflections on its scales, big yellow eyes and long fangs, a black tongue tasting the air as it approaches her. But she is not startled by it. She doesn’t even fear it. This dream is not a nightmare. The imposing snake coils around her, cradling her in her curves, and Delphini feels safe. She feels loved. She gives up to slumber in the dream too.

She awakes in the morning. The clock tells her to hurry if she doesn’t want her secret spilled, but she is slow to react. The cold has seeped into her bones. When she rises, the picture drops to the floor. She remembers it all then. But mostly she remembers how comfortable she was in her dreams with that serpent.

 _I’m a Parselmouth, it figures_ , she thinks dismissively. It’s not like she opposes to having a dream that actually lulls her to a good night sleep these days.

Her mind derails, crashing into a sheer wall of a very concrete possibility.

_He was a Parselmouth._

She shakes her head, as if shaking the idea off her mind. She needs to hurry, she needs to focus on reality. And that cannot be truth. But she is not a Lestrange.

The what-if is left behind in the Chamber, and Delphini tosses it off her mind whenever it comes back.

She needs answers.

She needs a plan.

X

_Hogwarts, May 12 th, 2012_

This Quidditch match is different. The entire school knows it. Hufflepuff and Slytherin have to face each other. The next game doesn’t even matter anymore. This game decides who conquers the Quidditch Cup this year.

More importantly, the cousins cannot wear each other’s colours, cannot cheer for one another. They must play against each other and there are bets being made since the students hoped off the Hogwarts Express after Easter break.

The match isn’t as bad as it could be, but the commentator in the stands is getting carried away about the familial rivalry in the pitch, and using that as a launching platform for simply deriding the Slytherin team. It’s not going down well, obviously, and Delphini has already received a warning for sending a Bludger on a suspicious route just barely over his head.

She stops listening after a while. It’s too much, it’s all too much. These past few months have been a nightmare, one continuous terrible dream that she can’t wake up from. All she sees are the Bludgers and the players in yellow. She hits the balls again and again, her mind utterly disconnected from reality. Her bat hitting every one of her dreams, one at a time, banishing them away from her. She becomes rage made flesh, she can feel her eyes changing, and she focuses just enough to keep them from going red.

During time out, she doesn’t even know what the score is. All she hears are people telling her how absolutely demolishing her Bludgers are, how the Hufflepuffs were inches away from the Snitch a couple of times and her balls stopped them, how her eyes look like an Antipodean Opaleye’s, ever changing, impossible to follow.

But over it all, she hears the damn commentator, still going about how she has no concern for safety minimums, how she is playing dirty, upholding the Slytherin tradition of cheating their way to victory.

After the stunt before Christmas, ‘The Ride of the Beds’ as it has come to be known among the students, the House of Slytherin stands absolutely no chance of winning the House Cup, Quidditch Cup or not. So she figures they have nothing to lose, really.

She gives the commentator enough time to get really enthusiastic about the second half of the game. Her sleep deprivation is pushing her to the limit now. She is having a hard time focusing her eyes, all she does is react to the other players. A Bludger comes to her, and a Bludger goes away from her, aimed out of sheer instinct.

She does not notice when the Slytherin Seeker catches the Snitch. She does not hear Professor Hooch’s whistle. Or her order. Or her scream.

“Delphini Lestrange, the game is over!”

By the time her brain registers the full sentence, she is already through the commentator’s stand, crashing into it, broomstick and all, leaving the older student plastered on the boards. She moves her braid off her face and all she sees is Headmistress McGonagall, standing over her, clearing her robes of the debris.

She is informed, drily, that despite having won the game, the House of Slytherin will forfeit the title to the House of Hufflepuff as punishment for her behaviour. For a second, there’s only silence in the entire pitch, then there’s a current of excitement as McGonagall’s words are processed, and finally there’s utter uproar. The Hufflepuffs are much too busy celebrating. The Slytherins seem to be torn between staging a _coup_ to get their hard won Cup back and cheering for Delphini. They do all loathe this commentator. And the House Cup was already miles away anyhow.

X

_Hogwarts, June 6 th, 2012_

She ruminates on the idea of meeting with Rodolphus. She can’t quite think of him as Father all the time now. It won’t be easy, she knows. Her Uncle used to have quite the leverage within the Ministry, but he no longer does, she knows. She can’t count on him to get her past the gates of Azkaban. But she could reach out for Auror Potter. She won’t even have to put her intentions to parchment; all she has to do is wait for her last class of D.A.D.A.

She gets lost in her thoughts, in the maze of her mind, her eyes drifting from the books splayed in front of her to the tall windows overlooking the school grounds. The spring rain plays a rhythm on the glass, and Delphini rises from her seat, approaching the window, touching her long fingers to the radiating coolness.

When her mind comes back to reality, leaving her plans to simmer, she gasps. The reflection in the window has red eyes. She takes a step back, looking around, making sure she is alone. When she looks again, there’s only green staring back.

Anger usually brings forth the red, never thoughts of her Father. But then, there’s that little detail about the green of her eyes that keeps pinching her mind. Rodolphus may not be her Father after all, and she is probably subconsciously angry about it.

She needs answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it has been a month… a whole freaking month since I last updated this story and you amazing people have not deserted me. You actually left amazing reviews and for that I am incredibly thankful.  
> Sorry for taking so long, but, as some of you may have noticed, I went on a writing spree during March and my studies suffered a bit, so I had to cut down on writing to make up for the delay. I’ve also started working at the hospital, and my schedule is a bit different now, and I’m still getting used to being on call for a whole day, and basically real life got in the way and I’m all out of excuses for making you wait so long.  
> A huge, immense thank you to ElectraCute, who has produced two works of fan art inspired by this fic. You can find the pieces linked under ‘Related Works’ at the bottom. Go check them out, don’t forget to thank the author ;)  
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter (I secretly hope for reviews). By the way, this is going to be 50 chapters long, give or take a bit. So about seven more to go.
> 
> UPDATE 26/04/2018: There's a new side piece up ;) It's titled The Nurturing of a Flower and it can be found in my series Companions to Birds become Dragons


	43. Confirmation

_Hogwarts, June 7 th, 2012_

She lingers after the class is over. Delphini asks for a word with Auror Potter and he smiles, with a sparkle to his green eyes. Not for the first time, he notices how uncanny similar their colours are. She can pick his thoughts from the air.

_Green eyes under messes of black hair. Someone must be laughing at the irony past the Veil._

He thinks of someone named Sirius, knowing that he would. She doesn't know who this Sirius is. She will just ask Teddy about him later. Right now, she must put her plan in motion. She has simplified it to its very essence, but one would have to be a giant to take those steps with ease.

Help from Auror Potter.

Permission from her family.

Going to Azkaban to meet her Father.

 _Rodolphus_ , corrects a little voice in her mind. One she always shakes off. The path it leads to is too dark for her to tread now. For the first time in her life, she fears darkness.

"Thank you for making sure that box was left in the vault."

"What box?" He seems to have honestly forgotten about it.

"The blue velvet one. You know; the one you told them to leave there even if they couldn’t tell what was inside." She tucks a loose curl behind her right ear, suddenly unsure. He is not family. He is not a friend of hers. But he is not a stranger. He is something in between, a grey character at the centre of a secret she feels compelled to uncover.

"Oh. What was in it?"

"A gift. From my Father."

Auror Potter's face is now absolutely pale, shockingly so in contrast with his dark air. Well, shocked may work in her favour in this, so she keeps going.

"Auror Potter?" She does need him to listen to her words. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. My Father. Do you suppose I would be allowed to meet him?"

The shock in his face is back with a vengeance. She has thought this through in her mind time and time again, late into her sleepless nights. She decides to put her newly acquired skills in _Legilimency_ to work. She won't try and pry, she decides, she'll just touch the surface and see what she finds there. Disturbing the waters by plunging into his thoughts would likely give her game away, and she does not think her _Occlumency_ barriers would be up to the task of keeping an Auror out.

She tries, but there are only dark corridors, and mazes made of shrubs. Barriers she realizes. Too sturdy for her. For now, at least.

She doesn't understand why Auror Potter would raise such walls around his mind at the mention of her Father. Except for that little voice in the corner of her mind. Another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

It may be an absolutely ridiculous idea for her to go to Azkaban, but she simply must. There are too many pieces scattered on her mind, pieces that fall into place every now and then, composing a larger picture, a darker picture.

"You want to meet your Father? At Azkaban?"

"I suppose it won't be easy getting into Azkaban, but what are the chances of him being released?” Her voice picks up confidence as she goes. She allows herself the tiniest bit of hope.

“Well, you are right about that… It won’t be easy, getting visitors to that side of Azkaban,” the light seems to go out of his eyes for a second, but he carries on, “and it will probably take a while.”

“I still have to discuss it with my family, but I was hoping you could help me with it."

She needs answers. The dreams keep coming and changing. Ever evolving. There's a mighty snake, deep green and yellow-eyed, oddly familiar, that she does not fear at all. For the first time, the snake goes from coiling comfortably around her to moving. She follows the serpent around in her dreams, treading corridors that look like those of Malfoy Manor, and yet aren’t. There’s a darkness to those corridors that she knows does not exist, not now.

“I can try. But I’m not promising anything. And I am not, most definitely, discussing the matter with your family before you do. Your Aunt would kill me the second I mentioned getting you into Azkaban.”

Delphini is released from her reveries by his voice. She smiles at the mention of her aunt. She nods her thank you, and he does not break the silence with unnecessary words. Their pact is silent, and secret.

She leaves the classroom and lets out a breath she’s not aware of holding. Her shoulders feel sore as the tension dissipates. A daughter striving to meet her incarcerated father is a mellow tale all on its own. One an orphan like Potter can surely relate to. Now, she needs him to come through.

She will not talk to her family before she is sure that there is a chance, however slim, of actually going to Azkaban. There is too much worrying at the Manor already, she will not make it worse, not if she can help it.

That night, she follows the serpent through the haunted hallways once more, in and out of rooms she has known her entire life and yet look so different. She realizes, in her dreams, that they are in the closed wing of the mansion, the one she does remember ensconced in shadows. The green hued serpent slithers ahead of her, down the darkest corridor so far. At its end, there’s a set of double doors, similar to the ones that lead to her rooms. The air is colder here. One of the doors comes ajar, silently. The snake slides past it, but Delphini hesitates. There’s something behind that door that is important to her, some other piece of the puzzle. She wants to see, she wants to know the contents of that room, but she fears the unknown.

X

_Malfoy Manor July 13 th, 2012_

 

They are gathered in the sunroom, after lunch. Astoria is finally well enough to lead a somewhat normal life, even if she can’t laugh without starting to cough, or climb a flight of stairs without gasping for air at the top.

Still, the atmosphere is light enough. Scorpius is running about in the gardens with Nala, happy and careless as any eight-year-old boy should be. Delphini is pretending to read a book by one of the French doors, bathing in sunlight, with her scaly familiar stretched out at her feet.

Draco looks on, watching her turn a page for the sake of her act. She looks almost ethereal in the light, her white dress waving slightly in the breeze, around the contour of her still growing legs. She’s becoming willowy, like his Mother. Like Aunt Bellatrix was, according to her. He worries about what’s in her mind, for she is much too absent-minded in their presence. He knows she has something up her sleeve, but she has not said a word about it to him.

He fears he already knows the answer. She has been asking about her father, and they are running out of ways to divert her questions. They do answer some questions, and quickly understand the danger in doing so. She will soon see the pattern to their answers, and see right through their lies.

X

Delphini is lost in her mind, thinking of all the times her family has spoken of her Father and of Rodolphus as if they were different people.

 _What if they are?_ Sounds the little voice inside her head.

She smothers it.

They can’t be. Her family wouldn’t lie to her about it, would they? Every night, in her dreams, she comes closer and closer to crossing that door, but she does not dare. She both yearns and fears whatever lies beyond it. She fears the truth. Above all else, she fears her reaction. The nightmares where her family is taken away linger still, but the worst ones are those in which it is her that sends them away, that leaves them. That kills them.

She has been going back to the creek almost every night. It’s how she soothes her mind back to sleep. She wakes with the first rays of the rising sun, and returns home under a fiery sky of oranges and pinks that fail to lift her spirits. She cannot go on for much longer. Not like this.

She needs answers, but Auror Potter has not written back, and she would rather keep their pact unwritten.

The flapping of wings wins her attention. She wants it to be Potter’s owl so badly that she nearly sighs in disappointment when one of Hogwarts’ owls lands swiftly on the marble table where Aunt Narcissa is arranging flowers in vases that will lend the smell of summer to their bedrooms.

The small, grey owl hoots twice, skipping on her landing spot. Delphini walks to it, setting the book down on the table and taking the envelope with the School’s crest. She opens it, skimming through the list of course books and other supplies that she will have to buy for her fifth year.

"No Prefect badge with that letter?" Uncle Lucius is behind her, looking at her from up his nose, watching the parchment in her hand.

She looks at him with disbelief, letting a crystal clear laugh through her lips.

"I'm not a Malfoy," she winks, "plus I fly furniture about the castle, I nearly smuggled a snake in there, I toss things into other students' cauldrons to spectacular effects and I land myself in detention several times a year. A bit less now, because I'm getting better at hiding things, but still." She shrugs her shoulders, throwing her hands in the air.

Draco snorts at that, the iced-tea he’s been drinking in obvious conflict within his mouth.

“I’ll go find Scorpius, see if he wants to come with me to Diagon Alley tomorrow,” she moves to leave, but Astoria’s gasp stops her. She turns around, smiling, “don’t worry, Astoria. I’ll write to Teddy and we’ll all go-”

“Delphini, you know Andromeda won’t let Teddy walk about Diagon Alley with the two of you. Not now,” Aunt Narcissa sounds utterly broken but her voice turns bitter in the end, “with all those rumours.”

“Which is why I’ll ask Teddy to ask his godfather,” she replies, light as feathers, “let’s see if anyone dares say anything with Auror Potter around.” She smiles like a cat that got the cream.

“You have everything figured out, haven’t you?” Draco mocks, running his fingers through his hair.

“Almost everything,” she says, lowering her eyes to the letter, wishing it were a different letter. She nods her goodbye and takes off, retrieving Guivre from the floor before she goes. He is about five feet long now, much bigger than ordinary smooth snakes, so he wraps his body in sultry coils around her, hissing softly as she carries him further into the Manor.

"And despite all her predicaments, I'll bet you she will be Head Girl somehow," Draco muses to his Father after she is gone. The eldest Malfoy merely chuckles. They wouldn’t expect anything less.

X

_Diagon Alley, August 2 nd, 2012_

Planning their visit to Diagon Alley turned out to not be that simple. The Potters were away on vacation, Teddy wouldn’t risk crossing his grandmother with an entire month of summer at home still to go, and Delphini wouldn’t even consider taking her cousin alone. He’d be exposed to those disgusting lies, and she would most likely lose her temper and hex someone.

So they come together only now, over two weeks later, and laugh at the flabbergasted looks of passers-by. Because there’s an amused party of four just entering Florean Fortescue’s shop. Delphini and Harry settle on a table, while Teddy is dragged by Scorpius to the ice cream.

There is a lot of gossiping around them, anyway, but the rumours are never heard. The Boy-Who-Saved-Them, no longer a boy at all, is sitting at a table with the most unthinkable of trios.

Everyone is so busy talking that they surely won’t listen, so Delphini takes her chance.

“Auror Potter-”

“I’m off duty. You could just call me Harry, you know?” his smile is kind, but he doesn’t take long to get to the point, “Let’s just say that the Ministry isn’t particularly happy about the idea.”

It takes every figment of her not to huff in frustration, or let her eyes turn red. She needs answers, and she is not about to let a bunch of bureaucrats stand in her way.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get there. I asked Hermione to take a look at it. She will find every precedent in History and build your case. It’s just going to take a while longer than I’d thought.”

X

Harry wishes he could peer into the thoughts behind the long-lashed green eyes sitting across from him.

He is well acquainted with Delphini’s yearn. She never knew her parents, not really, and all she wants to know where she comes from. Her mother is long dead, but her father is within grasp. Wouldn’t he do anything to meet his parents if he had the chance? Wouldn’t he crave visiting them, even in the darkest of places?

But, of course, she will never meet her father. Not the real one. She does not know it, or he hopes she doesn’t, so he must act like he believes the lies they’ve been feeding her for all these years. He cannot let the fragile castle of cards crumble, for surely it will land on the girl as hard as stones would.

He fears, obviously. He fears the future that may be headed their way. He trusts the vow the Malfoys took. He must uphold his vow. That he would always protect her. That he would always do his best to keep the truth buried. Hermione and Draco left nothing to chance that day.

Delphini is lost in her own thoughts, he can tell, her gaze drifting to both her cousins while they walk back to the table carrying a veritable ice cream extravaganza. In a second, her face opens up again, and she smiles in earnest.

There’s no way she would be this happy teenager sitting in front of him if she knew. He wants to believe that, with all his might. Except he wouldn’t put it past her to have found out on her own, and she may just be good enough at hiding things…

His future fear is now present, and screaming at the very front of his mind. His scar has not hurt in years. It still doesn’t, but there’s a phantom pain in his forehead now.

X

_Hogwarts, November 2 nd, 2012_

Summer was endless, but this is torture.

The months keep moving painfully slow. Every week becomes a bleak routine of poor sleep, classes and piles of work, interrupted here and there by a night spent in the Chamber, dreaming and dreading it, and the occasional visit to the Baron. At the end of the week, Delphini uses the convenient excuse of having to prepare for O.W.L.s to simply dose herself with a lion’s share of sleeping potions every Saturday and sleep for a night and half a day, uninterrupted, dreamless.

She is working hard, they all are, but she wouldn’t be this tired if she could put her mind at ease. Teddy has never fed her so much chocolate and pumpkin juice. Her friends have all noticed the shadow she is becoming. Her entire House knows not to cross her, knows better than coming closer. Her Quidditch has become vicious, her duelling feeds off of her simmering anger and she quickly loses interest. The ones that could best her are too afraid to even try. So she perfects her spells and charms in the Common Room, practising for her O.W.L.s, channelling all of her frustrations into obtaining a perfect score. Some nights, she channels it into far darker magic, hidden away in the Chamber.

The rumours are never heard around her. She writes home and her family writes back. She ensures that Scorpius is doing well, that Astoria is not worse, even if she can’t get better, that Draco is not dying with worry. Aunt Narcissa assures her that all is well, sending small bags of candy with every letter. Delphini learns to love the candy, every piece of sugary sweetness melting on her tongue is a physical reminder of the place she belongs to, of the family she belongs to. Of what she is not.

Auror Potter isn’t helping matters. There was only one lesson with him, and he left in a hurry.  She knows nothing of his efforts, she doesn’t even know if they still exist, and she resents it, loathes it. Resents him, loathes him, too.

She resents herself, too. She resents her inability to cross that door in her dreams. If she does not fear the snake, why can’t she follow it past the threshold? Why can’t she stop herself from turning her wand on the red-haired witch in her dreams? On the silver-haired family? On herself? Because that is where her anger has lead her. She now dreams of two versions of her, pointing wands at one another. One is never quite right. That one always falters, always drops her wand, always crumbles to the floor, drained of fight.

X

_Malfoy Manor, December 29 th, 2012_

Delphini comes down for dinner looking absolutely dishevelled.

“Whatever happened to you?” Draco asks her with an ill-hidden snort.

“Muggle Studies is what happened to me! The _adorable_ teacher decided I needed extra work on Christmas break to compensate for my obvious lack of interest…” She rolls her eyes in quite an expressive fashion, raking her fingers through her curls, and yelping almost immediately as one of her fingers becomes tangled, “Merlin’s sake! And you know what’s worse? I have to take a freaking O.W.L. on it! Do you mind much if I fail completely?”

Four sets of eyebrows are raised at that. As if Delphini would ever not aim for top academic accomplishments. Narcissa wishes she would focus on her academic reputation exclusively, and leave her pranking curriculum alone, but it seems that is not on the stars.

“Well, you can drop it after the O.W.L.s, can’t you? They haven’t made it mandatory for all seven years, have they?” Lucius looks inquisitively towards his niece, who is still working on releasing her finger.

“The School Board wasn’t _that_ daft! Yes, I am most definitely dropping the subject.”

“I’ve heard they are planning to, though. Starting next year, actually.” There is a mischievous glint on Draco’s eyes.

“Are you trying to get hurt or something?”

“You can’t use your wand out of Hogwarts.”

“We both know I don’t heed that warning… and that I have been using it often enough.” She replies, mimicking the mischievous glint perfectly and winking.

“What’s Muggle Studies? It sounds dreadful” Scorpius asks as he walks in.

“It’s the most appalling subject in Hogwarts’ history. You’ll see.”

Narkey walks into the room at that, letting its masters know that dinner is ready to be served.

X

The decision has been made for half a year in her mind, but tonight she must lay it bare to her family. It will not be easy, but her mind is made and she has a plan. Three steps to it. Simple, straight to the point. She suspects it won’t be any easier for it.

Help from Harry.

Permission from her family.

Going to Azkaban to meet her Father.

So tonight, she sits in the piano room, curled up with a book and her familiars, waiting for them. She charmed the piano to play a slow, soft piece. She couldn’t eat a thing, so she excused herself off the table. She has been clearing her mind as the family finish dinner. She needs the second step accomplished in the remaining days of Christmas holidays. She can try getting Harry’s help again at Hogwarts, and she can use some pressure from her family too. The third step will be through come Easter, if all goes right. The path is clear before her. All she has to do is walk.

The suspicion has been in the back of her mind for years really. Puzzle pieces that gather slowly, silently, visible to no one but her. In that deep, deep place in her mind, even in a corner of her heart, she already knows. Everywhere else in her mind and heart, she merely suspects the true. Now, she requires confirmation. And she will have it in his eyes and in his eyes alone.

When they come inside the room, she points her wand at the piano to silence it. The moment they are all seated, that very second, she lets the words pour forth from her lips. She cannot hold back, not now, for she will lose her drive.

She bares all. Tells them all about her sleepless nights, about how all she can’t think of is meeting her father. And making sure those filthy rumours are never heard again. She does not tell them everything about her dreams, those are hers and hers alone. She does not tell them of her real motive, for that is also hers. That, especially that, is a secret she could never share. She tells them of her conversations with Auror Potter, of how she has already asked for his help, of how he has not spoken of it again.

She asks for their permission. Their first urge is to deny it, as was to be expected. She listens to all the arguments she has listed in her own head for months. So she asks again, looking deeply into their eyes, letting the softest core of her shine through.

Most of all, she asks for their help.

And that is what convinces them in the end. They will stand with her, they will help her with Potter, in whatever manner they can. They will reach out to Potter and have him take her to Azkaban to meet her father.

Delphini can almost touch the worry in the air, but she can also feel their warmth, their honest desire to see her plan through. So she gets up from her seat and curls her body up by the side of her Aunt’s legs, on the floor, head on her knees. Narcissa strokes her hair for a long while, letting her thumb draw circles at her niece’s temple.

Delphini falls asleep like that. And does not dream.

She never saw the concerned looks her family exchanged, the dread, the panic in their eyes.

X

_Hogwarts, February 12 th, 2013_

She lingers after her lesson. Professor Potter, as he is referred to here, eyes her suspiciously. He scratches the scar on his forehead and at that another piece of the puzzle falls into place.

This is taking way too long. She knows she would never be granted leave from Hogwarts to go visit her father in Azkaban, of all places, so there is no real chance of going there before Easter. She knows the affair would be too openly discussed that way. Potter does not want it to be public knowledge. Delphini doesn’t either. But this is taking too long.

Even if she has to wait an entire month yet, she needs to know what to expect. She needs answers.

So she walks towards her teacher with her head held high, eyes piercing. She never gets so say a word once she reaches him.

“I know. I know,” he almost snarls, piling pieces of parchment filled with essays on _Unforgivables_ and why they are known as such, “your entire family has found a way to contact me. I’ve found myself dragged into Malfoy Manor for dinner half a dozen times already. The Ministry, or the very few people in it that know about your _requirement_ , are still going up the walls about it. Hermione has made a brilliant case for you…”

“But can I go?”

Emerald meets emerald then, sizing each other up, trying to determine which pair of eyes will look away first. His does. He stuffs the parchments into a leather folio, and then searches his robes. He retrieves a single, thick envelope from it. The golden M in its seal comes alive in the light.

“Yes, you can. Be ready on the 28th of March. I’ll take you from the Manor, into the Ministry and from there we will travel by _Portkey_ to Azkaban.”

Delphini nearly forgets her manners. She feels like screaming, like dancing, like hugging Potter. She forces herself to concede him nothing but a smile. A beautiful, happy, wondrous smile. The one she almost never uses, for it means the most.

“Now, absolute silence about this. No one else knows, no one else will, understood?”

She nods. He extends the envelope.

“That’s all the paperwork to be filled with the Ministry. Your Uncle Lucius will have to fill most of it, but there’s some for you too. It must be ready on the 28th,” he says, lifting his eyebrows, “or you won’t even go to the Ministry that day.”

“Don’t worry. It will be ready,” she carefully takes the envelope from him and packs it in her satchel. “Thank you,” is all she says. All she need say, they both know. She pats the embroidered leather, mirthful, almost giddy.

She is going. She has a way to get answers now.

She can only hope that she’ll be able to sleep again when this is over.

She dreams of the snake and the corridors again, like most nights. All she has to do is walk. Follow the snake into the room. She takes two tentative steps towards the door, leaning her hand on the polished wood. But she dares not cross it. Not yet.

X

_Malfoy Manor, March 28 th, 2013_

The Malfoys are the living image of concern once Delphini leaves. Harry Potter came by to take her to Azkaban, as he had promised. Now that she is gone, they are awash in fear. What if she puts the pieces together? What if she never comes back? What if their little bird flies through the web of lies they have so carefully built over the years?

“No, Draco. No. I mean it. You are all sworn to secrecy,” Astoria’s tone leaves no room for compromise, “You have found creative ways around the vow over the years, but you cannot tell her, directly, who her Father is, let alone discuss it openly.”

“Astoria, we can find a way-”

“No. You’ve suffered enough during the war at the hands of Lord Voldemort, you will not suffer anymore now that he is dead and gone. I’ll talk to her. I’m the only one that can explain everything to her.”

Draco raises his eyes to her. To the amazing woman he is somehow married to, to the brave creature that stood by his side during the war and that chose to do it again after it. Even after she knew the truth to the girl they help raise, the daughter-sister-cousin of his that she took to the first time they met. That she will protect as fiercely as she would protect Scorpius.

He nods. There’s not much to say, not much that Astoria will hear from him, and absolutely nothing that could change her mind about it.

“So tell me everything you can, _without_ risking your life, please,” she tells him as she sits down next to him, looking to his parents.

X

_Azkaban, March 28 th, 2013_

This cold is different. It’s not normal. Not the usual cold that comforts her and steadies her mind. Not the cold from reptilian scales she has grown to like. Oh no, this cold is deeper. Dark. Dangerous. Oppressing. She understands just how high is the price her Father pays. She understands the madness of her Mother, the madness of the others, the madness of Azkaban. She understands why her Uncle never speaks of this place.

How could you not do anything to feel alive after years of this? How would you not surrender to darkness when you’ve lived among shadows for so long? What wouldn’t you do to erase the memory of the Dementors flying over and around you?

She is greeted by nothing but suspicious looks. Visitors are rare, rare sights here. Almost never allowed, certainly not to this wing. These wizards and witches are here for life, too guilty to be allowed anything but the mercy of the Dementor’s Kiss, when their minds are too far gone.

They let her through with her wand, just in case the Dementors decide not to resist the urge to feed on a fresh mind, untarnished by these frozen wet walls. Auror Potter is not allowed past the last checkpoint. They extend her a quill and several pieces of parchment for her to sign. She does so mindlessly, while mouthing ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’ to Potter, who has a veritable mountain of documents to sign.

She is escorted to a corridor. There is no sound other than their steps the whole way. She knows there are screams usually, she can feel them in the air, engraved and embedded in the walls, in the minds of the forgotten souls behind the heavy doors. The guard leaves her, nodding to the last cell on the right. She waits as his footsteps fade in the distance, and then takes a couple of steps towards her aim, stopping to cast her Patronus. It will keep watch, and bring whatever memory of warmth these people may have back, even if only for a while.

She approaches the door, looking through the barred opening at the top. He is there, standing very still, waiting. His eyes are delirious. One look into them and she knows he does not see her. He sees her Mother. Until reality, even if just a fragment, settles, and his eyes become disappointed. She is not her Mother. But his eyes do not see his daughter either. They are lost, frightened, haunted.

She approaches the bars, saying nothing. She stands there, just within reach of his bony hands, waiting for him to move, to speak, to come ashore from the waves of his delirium.

X

Her eyes are not her eyes. Her cheekbones aren’t quite right. Her walk is not quite as luring as he remembers. Her smile not so cruel… Rodolphus has been begging the never ending nights to bring him his favourite dream for so long now, for so very long, that he fears he may have forgotten things about her. The things that made his Bella. His glorious, proud, beautiful Bellatrix. The one he knew in Hogwarts, the one he married. Is his mind so far gone? Have the spectres taken so much?

Suddenly, reality and realization are titans crashing through his mind. Wave after wave engulfs him, pulling him under, depriving him of all air, driving shear burning pain into his core.

This is not a dream.

This is not a nightmare.

This is his secret, back to haunt him. The girl has come. The Dark Lord’s daughter.

_No! No, no, no! Hide it, don’t even think it! No one can know. Bella will kill you, He will do much worse… but they can’t, can they? No, no, no! Do not betray them. You cannot fail now!_

He struggles to keep the figments of his sanity together, hiding the cruel truth in that corner of his mind that the Dementors never see, that they have never seen. That shard of cold glass that goes straight through him, only him; that the world knows not of.

Because she is hers but _not his_. Oh no, just like her Mother this girl. Herself and _His_. But he promised. He will never tell.

He lunges forward, arms reaching in between the bars, a hunger in his fingers, a thirst in his blood, a despair in his eyes.

X

Delphini does not move, neither does she flinch. She saw it in his mind before he moved. She sees her Mother in his mind, only her.

And now she has what she has come for. Confirmation.

This is a broken man before her, with nothing but a broken mind to show her, but it is enough. She doesn’t have to look for a crack to slither into, the walls around his mind have long been broken, they have crumbled to the floor and her own mind can simply breeze over them and into every nook and cranny and gather the remaining pieces.

She sees her Father. Not this broken man, not even when he was not broken but young and handsome the way old blood is.

Her Father. The Dark Lord. Both the feral, pale creature of crimson eyes, and the younger, handsome, beautiful man that exuded power in either form. There is liberty in that realization. She feels like her skin has shed, leaving behind something that fits her better, perfectly. She embraces it all as she roams his mind. As he roams her face and her curls with his fingers, touching what he sees of her Mother there.

He is off her as suddenly as before. He removes his hands fearfully, painfully, as if dropping burning embers. His hands, sullen and spent, moving towards his mouth, where he holds his fingers, as if that could stop the truth from travelling between them.

It is out in the open now, never spoken but ever free.

X

And he is terrified. He does not know this girl. He does not know where she has been. He knows nothing of the babe he left for a chance, however minute, of one last drink of that precious oasis in his mind, deep in his heart. He had got nothing but the destruction of a mirage, and a mouth full of sand, and a place here. And there is so much Bellatrix in her now that he can’t help but be scared of the power this girl might hold over him. And there is so much Him in her now that he is truly terrified. He can feel her in his mind, and he rushes to put every single remaining piece of his walls up, to keep _that_ from her. She can’t know any of it.

X

But she already knows. She didn’t need a crack into his mind, but she needs as much information from him as she can possibly obtain, because there will not be a second time. Oh no, she can see the terror in his eyes, her very presence within this cold rotting walls is driving him madder by the second. She dives into his dark coal pits of despair, keeping them on her pools of wet moss in the morning, the colour of hope to lure him in. When she has his full attention and no resistance, she gathers it all. And when she finds that last wall that will not give, she brings forth the crimson shade. Not the one she has known her entire life; the one in his shattered memories, the vengeful, raging red glare that commanded him for half his life. The wall crumbles and she rejoices in victory.

Her goal is met. Her confirmation obtained. She can be a merciful conqueror now. So she focuses on the image of a young beautiful Bellatrix in some social gathering, and mimics those features, changing her eyes to the steel grey she has always known to mean love.

X

He gasps. It’s like coming up for air after a long, deep plunging swim into murky waters. His dream has come; his Bella is here, finally, after so many long cold nights. She is here and he is at peace, for the first time in his life in this miserable place. He is not afraid anymore. He knows that look in her eyes was never his, always his elusive mirage. But this is a dream and it does not matter.

Then the mirage fades. The girl emerges from it. Delphini. The one he swore to protect, and yet left behind without further thought. He wonders if she is here to put an end to him, for failing her that day, for failing her parents – _Oh, Bella! My Lord, please forgive me!_ – for not keeping his oath.

“No, I cannot. Your life is not mine to take. But I would…”

He realizes they haven’t talked until that moment. Her voice is like His, perfected, commanding. But there is a note of mercy there. Not pity. No, the daughter of Bellatrix Black would never pity a fallen soldier.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raspy, strained, unused. “You’re not-” his voice cracks, faltering. What is she not? What is she?

“I know. You’ve shown me. I must go now. The Dementors will be back the moment my Patronus fades, but I will leave it behind for as long as it will stand.” She takes a step back, turning on the spot, walking away. She could be Bella from where he sees her, watching her disappear with his face crammed between the bars. A blue-white shape comes forward, taking her place outside his door.

It stays there until late at night, as if comforting him. He watches it the entire time, basking in its warmth. Revelling in the assurance it provides. The girl knows happiness. His failure is not complete. He is still watching, although wavering in and out of sleep, when the bright panther goes up in white ethereal smoke. He immediately lets go of the bars, retreating to the furthest place of his cell, away from the door where the shadows gather to feed on what’s left of his sanity, on the little peace he has gathered.

His dream is gone for good now. He has only nightmares left. But those walls in the very back of his mind will never falter again. Oh no, the girl knows the truth, but the spectres will never have it from him.

His thing to keep secret wasn’t always the true origins of that girl. No. His biggest secret used to be far more dangerous to himself.

He had grown to hate his Master.

Oh, he went to Him willingly enough. The oldest son of a pureblood family fighting for the keeping of his ideals, fighting for a proper society. The oldest son who had known his entire life who his wife would one day be. The oldest daughter of Cygnus Black, the most alluring creature of an entire generation of witches. Bella knew it too. It wasn’t love. It was an understanding about upholding family traditions and blood ties, about keeping their ground high up above the rest through their very blood. But he had hoped.

He had foolishly hoped that she could grow to love him as he already loved her. He had hoped he could claim her body first, then her mind and eventually her heart. They would be happy together, if only they had time to learn.

_Fool!_

Her body wasn’t his to claim, it had already been taken by Him. Her mind was always her own, at least until Azkaban, but her will was always in agreeance with His. Her heart… her heart was non-existent according to some. But he had seen it, and it was His. Always.

He had nearly lost his mind one night. He was already barred from her body by then, Dark Lords do not share. But he had hoped that with the war over, she would give him a chance. Because love had nothing to do with providing an heir to the House of Lestrange and Bella would do her duty, he knew. And yet he would do his best to make her love him too. He would share.

_They had spent the evening at Malfoy Manor, a gathering meant to reinforce ties to the Dark Lord. Bella’s eyes had barely strayed from Him. Her body had leaned towards Him when He approached the Lestranges, hanging from every word. He saw it in her eyes for the first time then. Or he allowed himself to see it. She was in love with their Master, completely, and he didn’t stand a chance of ever winning some of that. She would not be shared. He could see that then, clearly. There was nothing he could do, he understood that finally, to conquer her now. He had been beaten to it. Once more._

_His mood had gone darker by the hour from then on. The Dark Lord  retreated to his study with Abraxas, Cygnus and a few others and he saw how Bella followed him out of the room with her eyes. Pinning, craving, longing._

_Lovingly._

_They had left and he had sat in his own study at Lestrange Manor with no more company than a bottle of firewhiskey. That was the moment his mind started drifting into dangerous ground. He started loathing his Master, wondering if he could win her over if He was out of the picture. Wondering if he could remove Him._

_The sound of her steps propelled him to action. She would still be wearing the same dress, that sinful piece of silk that clung to her adorable shape, but her hair would be down. She would have a slightly darker shade of red on her lips and black high heeled shoes that her hooded robes would conceal. And she would shed it all for Him._

_He had stormed into the corridor, mumbling. Not moving towards Bellatrix but beyond her, so that he could reach Lord Voldemort first and win her over._

_“Fool!” Her voice had stopped him dead on his tracks. He held his wand tighter and felt it warm up with his magic._

_“I’m done being barred from my own wife! I’m done being barred from having a child with you! I’m claiming you back!”_

_“No! You are drunk! You can’t even walk properly, Dolph, let alone think! I’m sorry, Dolph, I really am. I’m sorry you can’t have me but I am His. And I will not allow you to turn on Him and get yourself killed over me.”_

_Of course not. Bella would never allow him out of the house if he meant harm towards her Master. She would probably turn her wand on her own husband first. Who was he kidding? This was Bella, she would kill anyone for Him._

_His precious Bella that would not see him die for anything but the Dark Lord’s cause. Anything else would be seen as a waste of skill and magical blood._

_She belonged to him completely and he was completely at her mercy. His wrath made him crave a fight, and blood, and violence._

_But he was drunk. As he tried to lean on the wall for support, his hand had slipped and he had fallen to the floor. Unable to get up on his own, he sat there crying silently. Pitying himself, and what he could not have, and what he could not bring himself to do. He knew death was coming for him then. His Master would find his darkest thoughts and punish him for them. Lethally._

_And then, Bella’s hands were on his face._

_“You are drunk, and hurt, and I’m sorry for you. But I will not let you die for this. I’ll forget this and so will you. I need you, Dolph, you know I do. Don’t leave me.”_

_She had kissed him. Briefly, like a butterfly touches a flower while gathering its own nourishment; tenderly, like a mother on a child’s forehead, reassuringly._

_And just like that, they were back at Hogwarts. They were acquaintances that knew what was expected of them and so had drifted closer, getting to know each other. Getting to like each other. For a fleeting moment, it looked like they might even get to love one another. Until the Dark Lord had come into both their lives._

_And just like that, he was back at home, watching the woman he loved, his wife for Merlin’s sake, get up and walk away. She would still go to Him, willing as ever, leaving scorching marks on his heart with every step of hers._

_She would keep his secret, and keep him alive for it._

So now he keeps her secret. Even if he couldn’t keep her alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been hectic, and I struggled with writer’s block for a while (even though the last two thousand words of this have been written since last year).  
> I do have this whole thing planned out… But, and this is a very large but, my writing schedule has been torn to pieces and I mostly write bits here and there, usually on notebooks and such, which means I then have to transcribe it and put it together, and make sure it makes sense through long hours of editing. I currently have eleven Word files with thousands of words written already, all concerning the next seven chapters of this fic, adding to one or the other as my muse sees fit. It’s the in-betweens that get me. And my job, and my studying.  
> So all of this to say two things really: this story is not, and will not be, abandoned and left unfinished, but do not expect regular updates every ten days. I’ll write whenever I can, as I can, and edit away on all my free time, and I will finish Birds become Dragons, and its side pieces as soon as possible. I have taken a break from the forum I joined, because my already stressed self couldn’t handle even more deadlines, so if I do publish anything outside of this fic, it will be, undoubtedly, related fics.  
> An enormous thank you to those that kept reading and checking and reviewing through my absence. If you have a spare moment, please leave me your thoughts (you are allowed to admonish me for taking so long).  
> If you are into my side pieces for BbD, I’ve published ‘The Nurturing of a Flower’ and ‘A Price for Happiness’ since my last update, so check those out too (in my series Companions to Birds become Dragons)  
> Plus, shout out to ElectraCute, who produced another piece of fanart for this :D Go check that out too, it's linked in related works


	44. Out of the Woods

_Azkaban, March 28 th, 2013_

Her face is an ivory mask once she reaches the guard that escorted her. He looks, discreetly at first, then he stares at her, trying to pry information from her features. She allows him absolutely none.

He is a stranger, and what just happened concerns absolutely no one but herself and her family. And probably Auror Potter and his friends. She will deal with them later.

Right now, she wants an explanation, a justification, and she’ll hear it from no other but Uncle Lucius. And Aunt Narcissa. And Draco. She yearns for the words that will pass their lips, because she desperately needs them to explain. She needs to understand.

Above all things, she needs a new path to show itself, because in her mind, just now, all paths are unforgiving. They all end the same way. In the most secret place of her mind, she buries all those paths, hoping that the words she’ll pry from her family will make another way clear.

She keeps her features stony once she reaches the small room where Auror Potter awaits her. She focuses on keeping her own mind guarded, shielding her thoughts. She focuses on keeping her eyes from turning red. Bright, blazing, blood-red. It would be the undoing of them all, and she won’t let it happen, not before she has all of her answers.

Still, Auror Potter is not at ease. She cannot pry into his mind, not yet, but the little figments that escape his shields reach her mind covered in worry. Sour thoughts, riddled with fear. Delphini looks into his eyes, emeralds facing each other, the semblance uncanny, and his eyes hold nothing but dread. He scratches his scar when she walks past him, taking the lead.

_So Auror Potter knows about me, too._

But she wants answers from her family first.

They walk silently to the Portkey. The thoughts radiate from Potter’s mind, too worried to shield them from her. She gathers little pieces, saving them all to better use them later, when she confronts him. Parts about her being Lord Voldemort’s daughter, something about a deal he made with her family, something about Rodolphus not being dead. Somehow, that little piece of information seems to be taken into high account in Auror Potter’s mind.

X

_Malfoy Manor, March 28 th, 2013_

“Delphini,” Astoria’s is the first voice she hears upon entering the Manor, “come here, if you please.”

She has more than half a mind to simply walk past the door of the sitting room and walk straight into her Uncle’s study upstairs.

“Delphini Black,” the tone to Astoria’s voice is unforgiving, one she has never heard before, and it’s enough to halt her steps. “Come in here.” No please, nothing but authority. This is a side to Astoria that she does not know.

“Sit down, Delphini,” she orders with a nod of her head when Delphini walks past the doorway. Her brown hair rests braided on her left shoulder, and her hands are carefully poised on her lap, over the deep blue dress that hugs her thin, thinner now, shape.

Delphini sits down on the opposing armchair. Instinctively, she is on her best behaviour, as always when on the face of authority. Back straight, knees together, feet primly tucked together to the side, hands on her lap, fingers still despite the whirlwind inside her.

Astoria smiles, just barely, but there is a slight upturning to her pale lips. Her body is frail, she is not, that much is made clear to Delphini.

“It’s all right, Delphini. Nothing’s wrong-” She is interrupted immediately.

“How can you say that? Everything’s wrong! You know! You’ve all known this all along and never told me!” Her voice is sharp and high from the emotion, and she is ready to rant her way through this and move on to going upstairs to look for the rest of them, but Astoria’s glare stops her dead in her tracks. The soothing smile is gone.

“There is nothing wrong, Delphini. You know the truth, now. You know whose daughter you are,” Astoria’s right hand comes up to her chest, as if she can force her lungs to breathe better, her ribs to spread a little wider, “but you do not know the whole story. There is a reason it was kept a secret. There’s a reason they could never even talk to you about Lord Voldemort.”

Delphini leans forward in the armchair, knowing better than to interrupt Astoria again but nearly falling off her seat with anticipation. A reason for the secret, one that the Malfoys share, except for Astoria, something that barred them from talking to her about her father. Her real Father.

She lets a sigh past her lips. There may just be a way.

Astoria tells Delphini what she already knows at first. That the Malfoys had deserted the Dark Lord in the end, rushing home, hiding and hoping against all hope for a way out of his service that did not involve their death. That they had both panicked and rejoiced when the marks on their forearms were lifted once more, never to return. Then, she tells her what that she does not know.

“After the Battle, Draco went back to Hogwarts to get Harry. He knew it was important to tell someone about you, should anything happen. It was the only chance he had of keeping you. It was the only way. Your family couldn’t risk hiding you only to see you be taken away later. He gambled it all on that chance, you see?” Astoria’s lungs force her to take several deep breaths. Delphini can see that she is straining, she knows that she should not let her speak for so long, but she needs answers as much as Astoria needs to lift this weight off of her shoulders.

“Draco would be broken beyond repair if you were taken away from him. He couldn’t let that happen, so he told the truth about you to Harry. I’m not sure about how Hermione was brought into this, but she was with the two of them when they came to the Manor.”

 _Potter, Granger._ In her mind, Delphini is making a list of the people she will demand explanations from. She wonders when Weasley got involved in the cover up.

“You see, Harry was quick to take your side in the matter. He _wanted_ you to stay with the Malfoys. But Hermione was adamant on taking you away for quite a while before she even considered the possibility of letting us keep you. To let you stay, she demanded an Unbreakable Vow from your family. She had them swear to never telling you who your real father was, and never denying Rodolphus as your father. To be on the safe side, she also made them swear that they wouldn’t tell you of what happened on that day, after the battle. They never really lied to you, Delphini, they simply could not tell you the truth. They still can’t.”

A heavy silence falls over them as she finishes her tale. It remains unbroken for long minutes, as Astoria gathers her breathing once more, steeling herself to endure the storm that she is sure will come.

It never does. No storm, no fury, no magical outburst. No blazing red glare. No blind fury.

“They would die if they told me?”

“They would,” she replies. Astoria allows herself the tinniest hope of victory at the glaze of Delphini’s eyes. They have succeeded, she will never be like her parents. “They will.”

No anger. Only green-turned-grey eyes that seem to be on the verge of tears.

 _They would die for me_ , is all Delphini can think. She allows herself one lone tear, for she is home with her family, as she finds another path. One in which she has already forgiven them. Her very bones feel lighter as the weight of her nightmare is lifted.

Delphini asks Astoria to tell the others that all is well, but that she needs time alone. She leaves the sitting room and walks upstairs, her left hand caressing the wood railing of the staircase, her eyes lost somewhere above. She walks straight to her rooms, pushing the door open and feeling warmer in its magic. Guivre slithers to her, hissing a greeting and quickly wrapping himself around her outstretched arm. She climbs onto the bed, kicking her shoes off as she goes, absentmindedly petting Vicious as she watches the veil draw itself over her.

She sits there, very still, for long hours. Her body resting, but her mind working relentlessly. She is organizing memories, sorting conversations she remembers having with her family, establishing a sort of record. All the times they gave her little bits about her Father disguised in conversations about Rodolphus. She spares a thought for him, too. He is locked away in the cold, in the dark, watched and fed on by the spectres because of her. For her Mother. He made a deal with the devil, and the devil always wins. She is seen as a Lestrange by the world only because he allowed it so. She is kept safe because of his surname.

_Though Scorpius is not safer for any of it._

She realizes then what it must be like for her family to hear all those malicious rumours about Astoria’s illness and Scorpius’ being the Dark Lord’s child. Disgusting. Horrifying. She is probably the reason they never go beyond hard glares and unspoken threats. Because they must protect her, they endure the vicious gossip, shielding Scorpius as best they can.

She makes her own vows that evening, feeling Guivre’s scales slide over her collarbones as he drapes himself around her shoulders. The truth must never see the light, not for her but for her family, so she will keep the secrets, tell the lies. She will keep them all safe as well.

That night, she dreams. She follows the snake down the corridors of the manor, through the darkness, no fear in her veins this time. She is curious, simply curious. Still, she hesitates by the mahogany double doors. She takes two tentative steps towards it, leaning on the door with her right hand. She feels the magic that exudes from the wood, and she recognizes it.

It’s the same magic that protects her. The same magic that guards the doors to her rooms, the one that lives in the veil. It’s comforting, it’s dark, it’s home, it’s safety. She pushes the door further and walks inside the room. It’s a study, illuminated solely by the night. Her eyes follow the large coils of the snake as it makes its path to a large window. There’s a figure standing by it, facing away from her. Tall and lean, enveloped in dark robes that flow down from his shoulders, waving about his shape though there is no breeze. A bald head, made paler by the moonlight, eerily white, with blue veins that emerge from the robes an disappear into his scalp.

The figure turns to face her, twisting a bony wand in equally bony hands, caressing it with long fingers, in a gesture so familiar to her. She raises her eyes to his. Red. Pure red irises encircle dark slit pupils. The eyes she sees in her dreams so often, with none of the anger she knows they are capable of.

“My daughter, you have come.” The hissing voice she is just as at ease with greets her. Welcomes her. She has no conscious memory of it, and yet she misses it. She smiles as she approaches him.

“Father,” and there’s reverence in her voice. She knows the world talks of a monster whenever they talk of Lord Voldemort, but she sees only the darkness that she calls home.

X

The next morning, Delphini walks to the breakfast table as if nothing has changed. She sits there, content, watching honey pour from the spoon onto her buttered toast, catching the last drizzle with her finger and putting it to her mouth with a naughty glint in her eyes. She knows better, but she also knows she can get away with it. Because she is home and they are family.

Narcissa is beyond herself with worry, sitting across her niece, incapable of eating. She does not know what to say. She is not afraid of Delphini, though she was the day before, but the possibility of a delayed reaction does not escape her mind.

Lucius won’t even look Delphini in the eye. He wants to say something, he desperately does, but how does one go about apologising about lying if mentioning the lie might just get you killed? Above all else, he wants to speak before his wife has the chance. If anyone is dying because of this, it must be him.

Delphini is the one to break the ice, looking at them both over the rim of her glass of juice.

“It’s fine. I know,” she tells them, patting her lips with her napkin, “I know about your vow, and I know that you cannot talk to me about my Father. And it’s fine.” She gives them that one smile that could win over the world. The joyous glint in her eyes making it all the more charming.

Narcissa lets the tears she has been holding fall and says nothing. She could never express how relieved she is in that very moment. How happy she is that her almost daughter, her wondrous little witch, is not leaving the Manor this time.

Lucius reaches for Delphini’s shoulder and squeezes it lightly.

“I’m sorry, sweet star of darkness, it’s meant to keep you safe.”

“I know, Uncle Lucius,” she answers, nodding, “I would never hold it against you.”

Enshrouded in the deepest crevice of her mind lies her plan. She knows exactly whom she’ll hold it against.

X

_N.12 Grimmauld Place, March 30 th, 2013_

“Harry, does she know?”

He is snapped out of his reveries by Hermione’s voice. He came into the kitchen to make some tea and had obviously forgotten about it. The teapot sits empty on the tray, the cups remain on the shelf, and he is holding the tealeaves.

The tealeaves. He has a handful of them but seems incapable of dropping them into the strainer.

“I don’t know, Hermione, I don’t know. You should have seen her when we left. She shut off the world, completely. It was like looking at a porcelain doll.”

“Have we made a huge mistake, Harry? Have we miscalculated this whole thing?”

“Maybe… I mean, Lestrange didn’t tell her, for sure. You know he is bound by much more than magical vows. He would be dead and buried by now. But it’s Delphini that we’re dealing with. She is smart, she reminds me of you in a way.” He trails off, too afraid to speak his mind.

“Why are you staring at the tealeaves, Harry?” Hermione has clearly had enough of his drifting mind, “Have you taken up Divination or something?”

“You never much cared for it, did you?” He scoffs, and then says in a whisper “She couldn’t take Divination at Hogwarts, did you know that? Trelawney was scared stiff of her. She kept going on about her darkness for three days straight after the first class. Neville says it’s better not to mention the incident around her at all. McGonagall told Delphini to choose another elective. She takes Arithmancy now.”

All colour vanishes from Hermione’s face. As little credit as she gives Divination, having a true Seer expel a child out of her classroom on account of the said child’s darkness does not seem good. It’s eerie when the girl in question was only thirteen at the time. It’s rather ominous when the said girl happens to be the daughter of the most powerful Dark Lord to have ever risen. It’s downright terrifying when she thinks of the girl’s mother. Her hand mechanically rubs her scar.

Her rational mind shakes the dread off and starts analysing, processing all the information she has gathered so far. They need a plan. And a back-up plan. And probably a safe house, should things go awry.

“Harry, there’s something we must do now. We absolutely have to tell _them_.”

The determination is so fiercely etched onto her features that Harry is made to stand a little straighter. This is the Hermione that took charge during their years at Hogwarts, during those stressful months on the run, the practical, no nonsense, witch that planned and evaluated every tiny possibility. This is the witch that made sure both Ron and he came alive out of the war. Merlin knows they would have long been dead if it weren’t for her.

“We’ve been postponing it for years, are you sure? I mean, we could wait until she goes back to Hogwarts. She’ll have lessons with me, I can talk to her.”

“Harry, we have to. Just in case this does not remain secret. You told me that Delphini didn’t say a thing to you after Azkaban-”

“Lestrange is alive! So are the Malfoys!”

“You just told me she reminds you of me! Me! What would I do if I felt something was amiss? Upturn every library and every other possible source of information, that’s what I’d do. I would find out! What if she does too?”

“Hullo,” comes Ron’s voice from the doorway, making them both jump, “is everything alright here? We heard you two from the room, and we have been waiting for the tea since Merlin was in diapers.”

“Change of plans, Ronald,” Hermione waves her wand and the teapot flies back to its place by the cups, “no tea. Let’s get Ginny, there’s something we need to discuss. All four of us.”

The two men follow the resolute witch out of the kitchen and into the sitting room. Ginny comes downstairs with an amused smirk on her face.

 _The kids must be up to something_ , Harry thinks, just before his wife notices the dour look on his face.

“Harry James Potter, what is going on?”

X

_King’s Cross Station, April 1 st, 2013_

Delphini is eager to get on the train. She kissed Scorpius goodbye at home, not wanting to expose him to the crowd here. She doesn’t like lying to him one bit, but he is too young to know of her secret. So she will do what she must, not what she wants. Their façade is but a frail web of lies, a castle of cards ready to tumble at the slightest disturbance.

Draco is here with her, a smug smile on his lips. They have talked, as much as they can risk, but mostly Delphini has been reassuring him of her untarnished love for her family. She smiles overtly when she bids him goodbye, thinking of the hug they shared the morning after Azkaban, and of how long she had stayed in his arms, felling his tears land on her curls.

She walks towards her friends, all chatting about the coming exams. She can hear Syrianna vehemently trying to convince Sigmund to adhere to a proper study plan. She means to join in, when she is brusquely pulled aside by her wrist before she can reach them.

Her wand is in her hand in the blink of an eye. Laws be damned, she will defend herself.

But the woman that pulls her to the shadow of a pillar shakes her head, and holds no wand of her own. There’s a scowl in her face that robs her of beauty, but she has the good looks of old Pureblood. Brownish-blonde hair, pilled neatly on her head, clean cut features, with high cheekbones and a defined jaw, light eyes that bore into hers. The hand that still holds her wrist is soft, and the nails carefully kept, but the hand looks and feels like a claw.

“Stop staring at me like that, you must know who I am,” the witch whispers to her, shaking her wrist, “they must have told you about me.”

“Let go of me,” her voice is a dangerous hiss, her wand scolding hot in her palm, now pointed at the witch’s chest, “let go of me, before I hex you.”

The witch’s eyes go wide at her threat, but her hand remains. “You truly don’t know. They never told you…”

Delphini is already casting a Knock-back Jinx sure to toss the stranger all the way to the wall when the witch removes her hand. She keeps her wand aimed at her chest.

“You have a role to fulfil. You were prophesized. You must… they must have told you by now. You alone can bring him back.” The witch is now taking steps back from her, slowly, as if to avoid startling a wild creature.

“Madam Rowle, I did not expect to see you here. Escorting someone to the Hogwarts Express?”

Draco stands beside her, a hand on her forearm, lowering her wand, while his other arm surrounds her back and shoulders. A quick look down tells her to be at ease, that she is safe now.

“D-Draco,” she hesitates, but her upbringing quickly rises to the challenge, “how are you? I hear you have a son, is he here too? I’d like to meet him.”

“He is too young for Hogwarts, and no, you will not meet him. Neither today nor in the future. Good day, Madam Rowle, I’m afraid the train is departing and Delphini must be in it.”

Delphini’s eyes skip from Draco’s composed face to Madam Rowle’s shocked one. She is clearly the odd one out in this conversation, but she is covered in goose bumps at the mention of a prophecy about her.

“Walk away, Euphemia, now,” Draco snarls, the informality of his address an obvious insult to the witch, mirrored on her expression immediately.

“They won’t tell you girl, but you must learn. There’s a reason you were born, and you’ll meet a sticky end if you don’t fulfil your part. The prophecy must be fulfilled!”

Draco’s wand is digging into the vein on the side of her neck. The witch raises her hands, palms forward, and moves away from them, her eyes fixed on Delphini’s.

“Draco? Who is she? What does that mean?” Her eyes won’t stray from the retreating figure, now walking quickly away from the platform. Her hand is clutched around her wand, feeling it sear in her palm.

He gives her a painful look. “I cannot tell you, forgive me. It’s not safe here,” he holds her close and kisses the crown of her head, “forget about what she said, Delphini. It’s not true and it cannot harm you if you leave it alone.”

“You can’t just ask me to let it go! Who is she?”

“Her name is Euphemia Rowle, her husband is in Azkaban. He was a Death Eater, she was a Healer. This is reckless, Delphini. We can’t talk here.”

“But she said something about a prophecy-”

“Delphini, do you trust me?” He holds her cheeks, turning her face slightly up. She nods, and he orders her, “Then board the train and forget about this. Go to Hogwarts, take your O.W.L.S, prank half the school, but leave this alone. I beg you.”

“I’ll let it go until the Summer, Draco, but you’ll have to explain this all to me come July.” The train whistles, loudly, steaming, sounding like a draft horse.

“I won’t be able to tell you much, but yes, we will talk about this.”

She squeezes the hand on her cheek, already turning to leave. Looking over her shoulder, she sees the deep sadness in his eyes. In that moment, she hates Potter and Granger, with all her might, for depriving her of so many things. Deep down, she hates them for depriving her of her parents.

She hops onto the train and leans against the carriage door. She watches the platform stay behind as the journey to Hogwarts begins slowly, as if the iron itself resents leaving. She surely does, watching the pain in Draco’s face. But she will put this matter to rest at the back of her mind. She has a plan to set in motion.

X

_Hogwarts, April 2013_

Delphini climbs in her bed, getting comfortable beneath the blankets and adjusting her braid on the pillow. She no longer fears sleeping. Her personal potion stores sit replenished and unused in her trunk. She doesn’t need to cast spells on the canopy of her bed to keep her screams and her tears silent. She is comforted by the cold in the Chamber, but it isn’t a dire necessity now. It’s a luxury she enjoys in solitude, in secret, but not a requirement for her well-being. Her dreams have retreated.

In reality, they have morphed. She still dreams of darkness, and shadows, and serpents, but the hissing in her dreams soothes her now, the dark is comfortable. She doesn’t see herself holding a silvery haired family at the end of her wand anymore. She is no longer afraid of following the mighty snake into the study, she adores that dream now. Nothing really happens once she meets Lord Voldemort in it, but she cherishes the opportunity to observe, the ways in which her memory seems to have saved titbits of him. They share mannerisms, their wands are of the same wood, they hold themselves in the same way, moving with the ease and lightness of dancers. They are alike, and she does not fear it.

She has changed as well. Adjusting to her new reality comes effortlessly. It’s an embracing of her darkness, of the deep undercurrent that runs in her veins. At first, she fears that her friends and her cousin will notice her change. She cannot risk having her secrets exposed, she will not provide them a breach, she will not have them destroy the carefully built web of lies that protects her family. So she makes sure to keep her façade without a blemish, applying yet another layer so that her plan remains concealed.

But her friends only notice that she seems better. They are happy for her, and they are quick to assume that Astoria was the reason behind her troubles. Radagast looks at her with something new in his eyes, something she has not had the chance of noticing. Freya rolls her eyes when she catches her brother looking at her friend like that, and Sigmund grins like an idiot every time. Syrianna hardly ever lifts her eyes from whatever she is studying, and Delphini adopts the same approach. It feels safer.

Teddy mocks her in good nature, walking down a corridor with her, telling her that having to bring her food was robbing him of time to study. Nudging her when he tells her of “that blond friend of yours” and of how concerned he looked too. She hits him with a book over his head, leaving jaws slacked at the gesture, reminding him that she is the one taking O.W.L.S this year and denying any guilt in the matter of his recent failures at Potions. Radagast goes unmentioned.

Among the madness of studying for the O.W.L.S, History of Magic provides them with the hardest challenge. They are studying the Wizarding Wars. For once, Professor Binns’ dull tone is absolutely appropriate. The newspapers and the books tell the tales with passion, and rhythm, eager to set sides, to define right and wrong, those who conquered and those who failed. The droll voice delivers facts, dates, places, devoid of emotion, as if the war had not ended on these very grounds, underneath the magical ceiling of the Great Hall. For once, no one sleeps. The students are keenly aware that there are Death Eaters’ children in the classroom, and Aurors’ children, and fallen wizards and witches’ children. They take in the harsh cold facts and it’s easier this way. Not many families survived unharmed. The Muggleborns, the only ones that could wish for a more lively approach, are quick to pick on the mood, too. It is no small matter. They will all have to write essays on it for their exams, and being detached is the best way. Even at the mention of soul splitting and objects of legend that can fool Death.

Delphini uses the opportunity to analyse the wars. She picks her Father’s choices apart, examining them to exhaustion. She feels as if she is learning from him this way. She likes to sit in the Chamber thinking on the battles, the ambushes, the near misses and the captures. She dwells on his failure long enough. Horcruxes and Deathly Hallows, such are the things that saw him undone.

Horcruxes are quickly set aside in her mind. Much too fickle, much too dangerous. But the Hallows… the Hallows have her adding a little something to her plan in absolutely no time. Even if she must bid it until the next D.A.D.A. lesson.

X

_Hogwarts, May 9 th 2013_

It has been a long day of teaching for him. With the approaching exams, the students are high-strung and his classes are harder to control. Not to mention he is exhausted to start with. Ginny and Ron had been livid for days, and the only thing that kept the siblings from hexing both him and Hermione past the Veil was his solemn promise of using his privileged access to Delphini to ascertain the extent of her knowledge.

Harry is lost in his thoughts when he notices Delphini’s slender figure leaning on a desk before him. He is not in the mood for a conversation at all, but he knows he must. If he has any hope of recovering a figment of peace between Ginny and him, he must.

“You know why I’m here, don’t you?” Without as much as a “Professor” to soften her words, Delphini makes her mood clear as water. Her voice is cold, detached. Commanding even.

_So she does know._

His only assurance comes from the fact that her true siring is still a secret, and those that know are bound to keep it so. All but for this girl, who happens to be much too clever to want it to be revealed. She knows the risks. And what he knows of her tells him that she will not risk losing her family to Azkaban, that she will not risk her own imprisonment.

“Why did you want me to stay with them? Why didn’t you side with Hermione?”

_Cutting right to the chase, I see. Well, it’s only fair._

“Because I was raised by people who didn’t want me, that didn’t like me, and I could never wish that for anyone else.”

“Even for Lord Voldemort’s daughter?”

“Delphini, people might hear you!”

“I put a _Muffliato_ on the door, they won’t. You didn’t answer me.”

“No, Delphini, I would never wish harm on you.”

X

She feels the anger rise within her, struggling to keep her eyes from blazing red, her hair from changing. This is not what she expected. She wanted a confrontation, an excuse to vent all of her frustration, her fury.

But Potter sits at his desk, apparently undisturbed, calm and perfectly composed. He seemed troubled when she entered the classroom, but whatever the matter was, it doesn’t look like it pertained to her.

In a second, all of her careful planning is tossed to the wind. She had every intention of interrogating Potter. If her family cannot tell her, it’s only fair he filled in the blanks. But all she can think is that her family risks death over a simple conversation because of what he did that day. That she is an orphan because of him.

“Sit down, Delphini, pull up a chair and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

His ease is what drives her over the edge. Before she can stop herself, her wand is aimed at him. Still, he won’t lose his composure. He merely raises his hands, pleading with her to be reasonable, assuring her that they can talk. He won’t even consider raising his wand it seems.

“I don’t want to talk, I don’t have to.” She keeps her voice cool, but allows her rage to burn freely inside. She gathers all of her magic, feeling her eyes and hair drift out of her control, and focuses it all in one single spell, one single word.

“ _Legilimens!_ ” The incantation leaves her lips, the spell leaves her wand, and she is submerged in Potter’s mind. She sees blurs of his life, moments she does not care for, memories of her father that she skims trough in a hurry. She focuses on the Battle, the memories keep dancing before her. In the distance, she can hear him scream, but she forces the sound out of her mind.

Then, she’s there. In the Battle through Potter’s eyes. In Hogsmeade. In the Forbidden Forest. She sees all and she keeps all. She is in the Great Hall now, watching the death of her Mother, listening to Potter’s speech, seeing her Father tumble to the floor and lie there, unmoving. Then, she is suddenly at Malfoy Manor, amassing every detail of the sordid deal her family was coerced into.

Satisfied, she removes herself from his mind. She shouldn’t have been able to do this, she was expecting resistance of some sort, but Potter is gasping on the floor right in front of her, hands clasped at the sides of his head, begging her to stop, to leave. She has seen enough to presume that he will not reveal this incident. The foolish wizard cares for her.

X

Delphini is alone in the Great Hall. It's late at night and Filch has been conveniently distracted by a bunch of non-existing curfew breakers via Peeves.

She stands there, where her parents perished. Taking in what happened so long ago. Fifteen years. It’s been fifteen years and she was kept in the dark all along. She kneels on the floor, allowing her dress to spread around her. She puts her palms to the cold stone.

This is the place, exactly, where her Mother fell. She saw it in Harry's mind, she heard the thunderous scream of Lord Voldemort in there, too. She looks to the place where her Father succumbed as well.

She could swear she can still feel their magic, lingering, but it's probably her memories of it enveloping her. She misses that darkness around her, even though she barely remembers it, she misses how it comforted her. Her family loves her dearly, but that blanket of pure unbound magic is something she can only find when she is under the veil on her bed.

She remembers something else from Harry's memories. Her decision is made now, in this place she has grown to love and loathe in equal parts. She will take to the Forbidden Forest every night from now on. She will not rest until her goal is met.

Until they can be together again.

A flickering shape catches her eye, but does not startle her. She knows exactly what it is.

"You are exceedingly fond of breaking curfew, aren't you?" The Bloody Baron is floating next to her, the silver stains in his robes shimmering brighter in the light. She raises her eyes to him and nods.

"It's the only time I can be truly free. While everyone sleeps, I can do as I like."

“You mean in darkness…”

“What if I do?”

X

_Hogwarts, May 18 th, 2013_

She tracks down the place where the Acromantulas once lived. Well, almost. The Acromantulas are wild things that enjoy the smell of her flesh and the perspective of a meal. With a few well-placed jinxes, she keeps the two who felt her approach at bay and retreats to the castle. The next morning, she is deep in a pile of books, gathering every bit of information on them. When she is through the books on her table and the sun is setting, she decides it's time for a visit to the kitchens to quench her hunger. Tomorrow she will take to the restricted section. Today, she’ll over indulge in pumpkin juice with Teddy.

The Acromantulas' numbers are carefully monitored now. Hagrid attempted to regain their trust after the war, but they had suffered at the hands of wizards and witches from both sides of the Battle, which means they trust no one. Their original lair exposed, they now live deeper in the forest for the majority of the time. That does not mean they do not roam the rest of it. Every half a dozen years, a select group of magizoologists comes to Hogwarts for a week. They are allowed to capture as many as they can. It's no easy task, but on very good years, they leave with two dozen adults.

She decides to wait for that week. The Acromantulas will be particularly feisty and inclined to murder, but they will also move to the deeper parts of the woods, leaving their ancient lair free for her to search.

Slughorn has his classes from year 5 and up preparing potions for weeks. They are meant to put the Acromantulas to sleep, to stun them or to maim them. Whatever may help the magizoologists in their capture is fair game. Delphini has been brewing more potions for extra credit. And so that she can slip a couple of vials away.

She has also been spending more time with some of her older house mates. Those taking Care of Magical Creatures at years 6 and 7 are allowed to participate in the hunt. Those taking Potions will be gathering supplies from the spiders. There is useful information being discussed openly in the Common Room, that she can verify over informal talking in her classes. There are extra classes on defensive spells that may prove useful and the Slytherins practice them freely in their rooms. Her plan is quickly put together.

She has an entire week. Seven nights. She can check that clearing inch by inch until she finds her prize.

The Stone.

X

_Forbidden Forest, May 30 th, 2013_

She finds the Stone on the third night. She knows it’s too risky to try and use it here now. She also knows that she is supposed to turn it three times in her hand, but she would rather not touch it at all before. She is afraid she won’t be able to stop herself. Her heart is already racing like a horse let loose on a field. Her breathing is shallow and fast, and not nearly enough to keep her mind steady. Her hands twitch and sweat. Her eyes find it hard to stay focused and keep looking at everything, as if they can’t endure the sight of her prize.

She puts on her velvet gloves and raises the stone from the ground with both hands, holding it as if she were gathering water in her palms. She is light headed for a moment. She has the Resurrection Stone.

She cradles it in her hands amongst the soil that has kept it hidden for over a decade. The grounds of Hogwarts kept its secret and she alone unveiled it. There’s thrill at that thought, a rush through her veins, a happiness she could not express in words even if it’s written all over her face.

Delphini allows the moist dirt to fall through her fingers, keeping only the engraved, dark gem. She presents it to the moonlight that reaches her in between the trees. She studies the symbol for a while. A triangle holding a circle ran through by a line. A cloak she has no need or desire for. A wand she could never want. But a stone she has yearned for all her life, she realizes now.

She closes her right hand around it, holding it tight. She pulls her glove off around it, holding the bundle of velvet in her left hand as she does the same to her left glove too. Then she tucks it away in her robes, close to her hearth.

She runs to the very edge of the forest, feeling the thrill and the wind, laughing carelessly under the moon and the night, rejoicing in the cold at her skin and at the magic in her blood. She knows she should take care to not being noticed by the creatures of the forest, but she couldn’t care less. She brakes just before the last trees, pushing her feet into the ground, giggling when her curls go over her head, covering her almost feverishly bright eyes.

She feels the vial of Draught of Peace in her pocket, and knows she needs it if she is to make it to the castle, and into the dungeons, unnoticed, unseen and unpunished. But she likes this feeling, this sheer exhilaration, so Delphini shrugs her shoulders and casts a Disillusionment spell on herself. She is so giddy she isn’t even sure it’s properly in place before she takes off again.

She keeps running and running, and doesn’t stop until she is at the shore of the lake, both feet in the impossibly cold water, clutching the little lump in her robes, watching her reflex in the dark water, under the moon.

Her eyes are grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s this? A new chapter before an entire month has passed? Not too shabby.  
> There is a lot going on in this chapter, so I’d love to know what you think. Feel free to write away and suggest things. It was one of your reviews that prompted me to include Euphemia, because I needed a way to bring the prophecy into the storyline but I wasn’t sure on the how.


	45. Truth Cuts Both Ways

_Hogwarts, June 1 st, 2013_

She had told herself that she would wait, that she could wait, until she was done with her O.W.L.s, but two days prove too much, too long.

She has the Stone. She has the means to truly meet her parents for the first time. Oh, she knows she had nine months with them, but those do not count, for she has no conscious memory of it. She wishes she had a way to remember those days, to somehow access such memories, but none of the books she has read, both here and at home, mention any of it. There are plenty of memory spells and potions, but nothing she can use.

She has been reading other books, too. Mostly lore about the Hallows, from forgotten books under a layer of dust so thick she could peel it off. They had always been dismissed as fantasy and children’s tales. And even after the existence of the Stone had been confirmed, not many Hogwarts’ students were interested. They were all oblivious to where the Stone lay hidden. All but her.

Delphini is well aware that her parents may not be her parents, exactly. That people behind the Veil are supposed to be a little different. She shrugs her shoulders. She doesn’t even remember them properly, she won’t be able to tell the difference. All she can think of is Mother. And Father. The Dark Lord and his Most Faithfull. Darkness made power made flesh in the two of them. In her.

She is in the only place she feels safe doing this. The only place that feels right to do this in. The Chamber of Secrets. She takes a moment to observe her surroundings. Delphini took the time to improve them greatly. She has perfected her Conjuring skills mostly. None of the furniture here existed before she deemed it so. There is a large armchair by the bookshelves, but also a table that looks like a smaller version of the dinner table at the Manor, and a chair with intricate detail in the armrests. The bones of the Basilisk still lie here, undisturbed. Orbs of light float in sconces between the snakes that line the walls, illuminating the Chamber, and creating a thousand swimming reflections on the walls from the water. She has cast every water repellent spell and charm she knows so that the centre is pristine and dry before the enormous face of Salazar Slytherin himself, but she could not do away with the water, not completely.

This is her place. Dark in more ways than one, cold but not unbearably so, with the soft music of water rippling against the stone, ominous perhaps, but more the welcoming to her for it. She is proud of it.

She hopes they will be proud of her. Her left hand instinctively searches for the bird skull pending from her neck, her right hand embracing her bone pale wand as her fingers caress it.

She moves to the box where she keeps her treasures. Guivre’s first shedding is carefully coiled. There’s a blood red rose from the gardens of her house, frozen in time and in its beauty. The little note from Scorpius. Her first Hogwarts letter. She can name every single object in it, and she knows exactly where they are. But all she needs now is the bundle made of her gloves that sits expectantly in the right corner.

She very slowly removes one glove, then the other. The Stone is cold in her palm, and mind-bogglingly black. It’s as if it absorbed all light and let none escape, safe for the shimmer of the three symbols carved on the top facet.

It’s time. It’s finally time. She closes her hand around it and moves to the centre of the Chamber, where she has room to stand unimpeded. Her breathing has become shallow and fast, her heart feels ready to leap off her chest. But she has one more choice to make. She needs to decide who to bring forward first.

Her mind is lost, dwelling. This is the one thing she has not planned. The one thing she could not decide. Father or Mother? Both, that was easy enough. She has the Stone and the time to use it freely. But Mother first or Father first? Absent for a moment, utterly lost in contemplation, her body takes charge.

Her right hand does what it’s wont to do when she is fretting over something. It moves. It fidgets. And then it starts rolling the Stone between her fingers and her palm.

When her mind catches up with the movement, it’s too late. The Stone has been turned three times in her hand, and she has no idea whatsoever of whom she was thinking of precisely. She suspects she was thinking of both of them at the same time, of how much she would like to see them together. Potter saw a bunch of people, did he not?

The air in front of her shifts. Something is not quite right, but it isn’t completely wrong. It’s just different. Like the density has changed. Then, a flimsy membrane comes to exist before her eyes. Pale blue but very nearly transparent at that, dancing as if it were made of water, shimmering were it would ripple. The first thing she sees in it is the waving of wild curls in a breeze that does not caress her skin, but that moves akin to the ripples.

“Mother?”

The full figure emerges, as if coming from a mist Delphini cannot see. This is not the witch she had seen in Potter’s memories. She seems younger, happier. She is dressed all in black and the contrast to her pale skin is almost glaring. But her eyes are what capture Delphini. Her eyes are the same shape as hers, as long lashed, but they are grey. And she sees exactly what she expected in them.

Bellatrix takes a second to look at her, really look at her, and then gasps. A long hand flying to her lips, a brim of tears to her eyes.

“Little bird?”

And Delphini knows, simply knows, despite never hearing her Mother address her so in her life, that she means her. It’s what Aunt Narcissa always called her, what Draco always called her. So she nods, devoid of words that she is in that moment. Her body is not sated in its yearning and fidgeting, though, so it moves forward, straight up to the veil, her left hand reaching up to her Mother.

And then it stops. Just shy of her Mother, her fingers touch the membrane and it will not give. She stares at the point where her fingertips seem to dig in into the blue, but never breach it. She is still staring when another hand joins her fingers. Her Mother’s fingers do not touch hers, but she can see the ripples being pushed by them from the other side. Between them there cannot be anything wider than a hair, and yet it feels like the thick walls of Azkaban, locking them apart.

“You’ve grown, my precious augurey,” her Mother’s voice comes to her as if nothing stood between them, “how old are you now, Delphini?”

She has to force her mind from the tourbillion of frustration and anger she is lost to momentarily. So much effort put into this, and she cannot even touch them. She cannot even build a memory of being held by her Mother, of feeling hair other than pale silver drift over her, of having her curls tucked behind her ear by the hands that used to hold her engraved brush. She forces a sob back down her throat. She cannot touch her, but she will not waste her chance. Gripping the Stone hard in her palm, feeling every apex and edge of it, as if that keeps her Mother better tethered to her reality, she raises her eyes to Bellatrix Lestrange. Tall and proud, and head held high, and she sees the smile grow in her Mother’s lips.

“I’ll be sixteen soon,” she answers, not a waver to her voice, “Mother.” She cannot help but add that word to the end, savouring it, felling her lips come apart at the beginning and the curl of her tongue as it detaches from her teeth and curls again at the end.

“I never thought I wouldn’t see you again that day, little bird. The Battle, I was so sure I would come back to you and lift you from Dolph’s arms and present you to the world under the Dark Lord’s glory… I’m sorry I left you-”

“You didn’t leave me, Mother! You… you were killed. You never meant to leave me.”

“I lost that day, Delphini. I should have been there to raise you, to teach you like your Father taught me. Where is he? Is he here?”

There is such a glimmer of hope in her grey pupils, such a yearning perspiring through her whole body. Delphini knows exactly what people mean when they talk of her Mother’s devotion to Lord Voldemort. It’s a physical thing, her very bones seem to crave the presence of him. Then she shatters.

Her Mother notices the change in her demeanour and looks into her eyes, a multitude of questions behind hers.

Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord’s Most Faithfull, does not know that her Master failed. And it falls to Delphini to let her know.

“He died too, Mother. Pot-Potter killed him.”

She has to take a step back such is the intensity of the fury exuding from her Mother. And then Bellatrix shatters as well, true tears coming down her cheeks, leaving wet tracks on a face that is so much like hers.

“He didn’t win? He, he-” it’s as if she can’t even bring herself to mention it. Even in death, she cannot fathom the possibility that her Master was something other than immortal and invincible.

Delphini shakes her head, approaching her again.

“But then, where are we? Who raised you?”

“This is the Chamber of Secrets, Mother. We’re at Hogwarts,” and her heart flutters in her chest for the sparkle in her Mother’s eyes must be pride, “and I was raised at Malfoy Manor. I live there.”

“Rodolphus stayed there?” She looks positively puzzled, before her features change to a scowl. “He wouldn’t. Did Narcissa?”

“Yes, Mother. I was raised by Aunt Narcissa and Uncle Lucius, with Draco and Astoria.”

But her Mother’s scowl remains.

“You were raised by cowards then. What happened to Dolph?”

Delphini doesn’t really understand what is going on, but answering her Mother seems to be the best way to get her own answers.

“Rodolphus came to Hogwarts that day. When Aunt Narcissa went back home, he left. He wanted to fight, I guess. He watched you die, and Father, and he was captured. He is in Azkaban.”

That jars Bellatrix, her eyes go wide and she is lost from reality for a moment.

“He has been there ever since?” Delphini nods, and Bellatrix carries on, “The Malfoys should be there as well. Narcissa had no right to raise you after running from battle. We had plans, a safety for you to be raised properly, in secret, should something go wrong and keep us from returning to you.”

A string is pulled in Delphini’s mind. Something she has promised to leave alone until July.

“Madam Rowle?”

Her Mother’s eyes shine with what she thinks is pride again.

“So you know? Delphini, if you know, if you managed to do all this by your own,” she talks in a hurry, gesturing to the room around her, “then you must do what is right. You must bring your Father back. He’s not dead, not really. He has done this before, you must find him-”

“What? Mother, he is dead!”

“Don’t’ you dare talk back at me! He is not dead. He can’t be. He is not here! He must be alive. It’s just like before. Go to Madam Rowle, Delphini, she can show you how to find him-”

“But Mother, I saw it! I looked into Potter’s mind. I saw you die in his memories. And then I saw him die. I saw his body on the floor, there was a burial!”

All the joy leaves her Mother’s eyes. Her very shape seems emptier, like something was there before, holding her straighter, but is no longer. Delphini realizes just how very complex her devotion to her Father must have been. How very integral to her.

“But the Dark Lord is not here…”

“Where is my Father? What do you mean with he isn’t here?” Her Mother looks so very sad, so broken and her words seem to only break her further, “I summoned you both, but maybe I did it wrong, maybe I can only have one of you at a time…”

“I never saw him again. He never made it here. Or he chose never to seek me in here,” there is the glimmer of a tear under her left eye, and then under her right eye, and then Delphini can’t see her eyes anymore because her Mother has fallen to the floor on the other side of the Veil and she cannot reach her.

She realizes just what her Mother means by “here”. Lord Voldemort is not beyond the Veil. That is why he is not here, that’s why he didn’t answer her summoning. Delphini too falls to the floor. Her body lacking the will to rise again, lacking the will to do anything but cling to the Stone in her hand. If she won’t have her Father, she will not let go of her Mother.

“Don’t you dare pity me. Don’t you dare pity the Dark Lord. Or yourself for that matter. Pity has no place in the minds and hearts of the Blacks. The Gaunts would never forgive you such a slight. Never pity the losing, Delphini. There is a reason they lost.”

Her Mother is still on the floor, but her eyes are back on hers.

“You have his eyes. You had his eyes from the day you were born. You learned to mimic his eyes that night, too.”

She shows her. She lets the red pupils she has known in her dreams for her entire life shine through, and that puts the smile back in Bellatrix’s lips.

“You are extraordinary, my precious augurey. I don’t know where the Dark Lord is, but if anyone can find him, it’s you. You alone were meant for it. Promise me, Delphini, promise me that you will bring him back.”

Her eyes falter from the red, settling on their natural green again. It’s as if her Mother is two people at a time. The loving mother and the indomitable Death Eater. And she has a feeling the latter is gaining ground.

So she must find Euphemia, it seems. To find her Father, she must track down the woman that grabbed her at the platform. Maybe she knows why Lord Voldemort is dead but unable to come to her. Even when she holds the Stone so hard in her palm.

And then she sees something change beyond the Veil. The mist that she can only feel seems to change again, the ripples in the Veil start anew, with a different rhythm. Until something else comes forth. Someone else. The red eyes alone first, then the whole of him. The dark flowing robes around his pale figure, the bare feet run through by blue veins, the hands that hold a wand like hers. And the kindness in the red.

She is in awe. She has seen him in her dreams, time and time again, but she had never felt his presence. Even through the Veil, the magic seems to pulse with him, from him. She feels at home, it’s the same feeling of protection, of close affection, that she gathers from the veil around her bed. It’s like being held in someone’s warm embrace. She wonders if the wizard before her, her Father, ever held her in his arms like that, if that is why she feels so comfortable, so safe, when most wizards and witches would be bolting for the closest door at the sight of such a creature.

A creature, she understands, is what her Father truly is. Not a monster, not a simple wizard anymore either. He is made of dark magic itself, he is its creature, wholly.

He doesn’t smile. She doesn’t think she could pick up a smile on lips so thin, and his skin seems to be pulled just a bit too tight over his cheekbones for even the possibility of a smile. And yet there is a form of kindness in the red, one she recognizes as hers and only hers.

Her Mother is still on the floor, looking up in adoration, with both hands over her mouth, tears in her eyes, running down her face. A blasphemous thought comes to Delphini. Her Mother looks like the saints in the Muggle paintings she has seen, when they are allowed a vision of their gods.

The Chamber remains utterly silent for long, long minutes.

Lord Voldemort has approached the Veil, his eyes on Delphini the whole time. Appraising her, she thinks, gauging her skill. She feels like her very essence is being weighted, as if her magic were being measured.

But he does not speak to her first. No. With a grace that no one could ever even hope to match, he turns his right palm up and moves his hand towards her Mother, offering her help to rise. Delphini is transfixed on that single, so very, very pale hand. The long gracious fingers so familiar, and she knows it’s not the dreams. She has hands like his. Not so large, but equally long, equally slender.

“Bella,” that is the first thing he says, and there is something so deep running in such a simple sound, “rise.”

Bellatrix left hand leaves her chin and travels the short path to his hand so surely, but so softly, as if caressing him through the air that separates them. She touches her fingers to his, just to the fingertips, and he is careful to move them just so that the nails, almost claws, stay clear of her skin. Then her fingers drift up to his palm, as his thumb comes down, ever so slowly, to brush her knuckles.

Delphini knows this is something very intimate, something that she is only allowed to see unfold because she is _theirs_. Because she alone has brought them together once more. And the only thing she regrets is not being able to touch them, too.

“My Lord,” her Mother whispers, almost afraid to blow him away, “Master. You have come.”

It’s only then that, with the softest pressure, Lord Voldemort pulls her hand upwards, barely moving it but still coaching Bellatrix’s gracious rise to stand. His hand drifts up her wrist and then her forearm, and she hisses when his fingers touch, no, caress, the Dark Mark there.

Their eyes disconnect at that, but her Mother moves closer to him, so close that she could lean for just a fraction and she would be pressed to him from hip to shoulder. Their eyes disconnect so that Lord Voldemort can look into hers.

She can’t help but let her eyes turn grey for a second. His thin nostrils seem to move in what would be a flare, but there’s amusement in his eyes.

“I see you have kept your abilities. Both of them. Well done, Delphini,” he tells her, nodding to her and gesturing with his left hand to the Chamber, “I expected nothing less.”

And she knows he is proud. The glint she saw first in her Mother’s eyes lives in his eyes too.

“Have you Conjured all of this?”

She still can’t find her voice. Her senses are overwhelmed by what she has just seen, still sees, by the very magic that floats about around her since he came to her. So she nods.

“Your wand?” His eyes drop to her hands, and she takes a step closer to the Veil yet, so close that she can almost push it with her whole body.

“Thirteen inches, yew and a core of dragon heartstring. Flexible enough,” she manages to say. The very words Olivander used. Those were not the words she imagined she would say to him, at all, but very little has gone according to plan since she felt the Stone in her palm.

“Fitting.”

Silence falls upon them once more. It is not awkward, it’s simply a prelude.

“Show me,” he tells her, and her brain takes a second to register his request, and another to register the Parseltongue they have been talking in.

“What would you like to see, Father?” And there’s such exhilaration in her chest that she can finally call him Father, that she can finally use the word and mean it, knowing that it is true. But this is a word that she savours through its hissed syllables. It only feels right.

“Change.”

And she knows exactly what he means. She thinks of her alternate persona, and her inky curls are now silvery, soft tresses with ends of blue, and her eyes are brown, and her skin tone is somewhat different even if it still looks like porcelain. She looks older like this, her features losing the roundness of youth that she still has.

Her Father’s eyes are the only proof of his approval, but her Mother smiles in wonder, even if there is the shadow of a memory to the grey. Delphini knows why it’s there, has seen it before in Aunt Narcissa’s eyes, and knows to leave it alone. A bridge long burned.

“And are you an Occlumens?”

“And a Legilimens, Father. It’s how I tracked the Resurrection Stone.”

“What did you do?” he has changed back to English, and she suspects he has done it for the benefit of her Mother alone. And that makes her smile, even if she does not grasp his meaning immediately.

“What did I do?”

“I heard your calling. I heard a voice in the place where I was and I knew it was yours. But I could not leave that place, I was very weak you see. But then, you called again, and again. I grew stronger with it and then, I could cross into another place, warmer, lighter. I had returned to this shape, but this is not how I began. In that second place, your calling was clearer, and I could move freely and come here. For academic purposes, what did you do to make it possible?”

“You weren’t where Mother was? I-I don’t know what I did. I turned the Stone thinking of you both, and when you weren’t here, I kept a hard hold of it, but I didn’t turn it again. I was just thinking of a way to find you.”

“Interesting…” there is something ominous to his tone now, “I believe your magic may have healed me somehow. My soul, you see, I only have a small portion of it left. You brought me back, in a way, like you were supposed to do.”

“Just as you are meant to do, Delphini,” her Mother jumps to cover the silence, “this must mean you can do it, my precious augurey. You can bring the Dark Lord’s cause back.”

“You mean, bring you back to life?”

She is startled by the thought so badly that she physically jolts back a couple of steps. She raises her eyes to her parents, full of hope, mouth slightly open in shock. Could she be so powerful?

_You’re the Dark Lord’s daughter, of course you can. You are of the Blacks as much as you are of the Gaunts, your blood is made of magic itself._

What if she can have her parents back? Because if she can bring Father back, surely she can bring her Mother too. What if she can have all she ever wanted? She brought them this far. What if she can bring them past the Veil? What if she can touch them?

But her Mother had scowled at the mention of the Malfoys, calling them cowards, claiming that they belonged in Azkaban, and she fears she might think a much grimmer end fitting. Bellatrix Lestrange is feared to this day, perhaps more than Lord Voldemort, for all her unpredictability, her cut throat ways.

The ambition dies in her chest. A shadow descends on her Father’s eyes. This is the glare in the mirror. This is the raging red in Rodolphus’ memories. She will not be allowed the mercy of second thoughts. She has proved herself worthy, but not capable.

What if bringing the Dark Lord back means condemning her family? They won’t be allowed to live, she knows, leniency was never found in Lord Voldemort’s ranks. She suspects her own Mother would find a way to eliminate any shred of it from her. Draco would pay for throwing his wand at Potter, Aunt Narcissa… Merlin, Aunt Narcissa lied to him! Uncle Lucius would probably get himself killed trying to save her, spare her. And Scorpius would surely be made an example of. Astoria wouldn’t survive it.

And Teddy!

The panic flares inside her and she feels the control escaping her. She knows her eyes and her hair have taken on a life of their own. Her heart is galloping against her ribs and her lungs, punching the air out with every beat. She squeezes her wand, tight, so tight, trying to hold her magic inside.

Her eyes find those of her Father and he is truly proud now. Now that her might is so close to being unleashed, that her magical outburst makes her potential so obvious. Her Mother is overjoyed, actually holding on to his right arm, looking ravenous. They are proud of what she has become.

Except she knows her potential, she knows her might. It’s destructive. The last time she felt this unhinged, she killed someone.

This is what they tell her she is meant to be, meant to do.

But this is all wrong.

The panic is so strong now that her lungs have lost the ability to breathe. She feels like she is drowning. Her left hand clings to her wand, feeling it sear itself into her palm. Her right hand hurts even more and she realizes it’s the Stone.

_This is all wrong! This is all wrong! I can’t do this, I can’t lose control again!_

Her mind reels and reels and the pain in her hands is so bad, so deep. She has the presence of mind to notice that her dress and her hair are whipping about her, flailing wild in the waves of her magic. Her head hurts from the effort of trying to gain control, her mind screams.

She screams. And her hands let go. For a moment, both Stone and wand cling to her already blistering palms. Then they fall.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

It’s her bellow.

It’s her Father’s.

It’s her Mother’s.

It’s all of them wishing for a different result, all of them wishing that they could stay.

The Veil shimmers violently, from her magic and from that of her parents. The ripple stops.

And they fade.

First their voices, leaving only her screams. Then their bodies, vanishing into thin air like her Patronus does. Their eyes linger the longest. But even they are gone, the grey and the red.

“No,” she whimpers into the Chamber, not knowing what she wishes to undo, to deny, “no, not this.” She collapses unto herself. She remains there, folded upon her own body, letting her forehead touch the cold stone floor, sobbing in earnest, letting her tears run free, fists tight against her chest, trying to ignore that pain and succumbing to a much greater pain, at her very core.

She turns her head and she sees what her magic has done to the Chamber. The furniture is all over the place, the books somehow all still out of the water. Her armchair is broken and the sconces hold no light. The basilisk’s bones have been moved for the first time in over a decade and they are spread all around. Some of the snakes on the walls are marred by her magic, as well.

The wand and the Stone lie just next to her, well within reach, but she moves away. Sobbing silently now, she crawls to the water. Not to where it’s deep, just to a couple of inches high, so that the cold can soothe her aches, so that her burns can be washed, so that her body can lie mostly in it, while the water ripples against her chin, every now and then touching her lips, so that her tears can mingle away with it.

X

_Hogwarts, June 13 th, 2013_

Somehow, she finds it in her to keep it together through her O.W.L.s.

After what felt like years in the cold water, she had mustered the will to get up. The jar of Dittany was fortunately still in one piece, and so she applied it profusely to her palms, bandaging them. Then, she had collected her wand. The Stone was left on the floor. She did not bother to fix anything, merely piled up the books in neat stacks, or as neat as her injured hands could manage, over the remnants of a shelf. Her box was open on the floor, but she could account for all her treasures. All but for the rose, that had drifted away into the water. She left it behind. The note from her Father, the one that had been in the necklace box, was still stubbornly inside. She couldn’t bring herself to toss it in the water as well, but she had left it in the Chamber.

She has still to return.

She had gone to Madam Pomfrey, explaining how she had hurt her hands when she was trying a Transfiguration spell on a pebble. She was so nervous with all the exams and she had been so furious that she could not make it work… It was a blatant lie, and one not carefully constructed at that, but she had run out of Dittany and she needed her hands. The matron had heard enough tales of students trying to keep themselves out of trouble. And wass well acquainted with Slytherin’s duelling mishaps. And if that weren’t enough, one look at her palms was. Spells, ointments, fresh bandages and stern orders to be at the infirmary every day just before dinner were all Madam Pomfrey had for her.

Somehow, she found it in her to lock that terrible night in a corner of her mind and focus excusively on her studies. No late night talking with her friends. No shenanigans with Teddy. No letters home other than those she promised Scorpius.

And it has worked. So far, she has taken exams on Charms, Transfiguration and Herbology. And she knows she will have straight Outstandings in all three. As she will once today’s exam is over.

Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Auror Potter is watching her from the top of the Great Hall. His greeting is much colder, but she expected nothing else. She walks demurely to her desk, arranging her cloak while she waits for the remaining students to be seated.

She writes away, answering every question without the shadow of a doubt. She skims through her answers when she is over, ensuring nothing is amiss. When asked to perform spells, she does so effortlessly, producing even her Patronus with ease. The examiner assures her of her brilliancy after every single spell, hex and jinx.

She has no intention of speaking to Potter, but Harry comes to her in the end, anyway.

“I would like to talk to you, privately, right away.”

She nods, her face a closed mask. She waves her friends goodbye, telling them that all is well, while she makes a mental note to find out which question, exactly, is responsible for Sigmund’s messy hair and scared eyes.

She walks silently to an empty classroom, to which he holds the door open for her. Potter ensures no one will barge in or listen to their conversation with swift movements of his wand and murmured words.

They haven’t even faced each other before he speaks.

“Have you kept the stone, Delphini?”

She can hear the worry in Auror Potter’s voice. There is a little swell of pride at knowing he thought it unnecessary to ask if she had found it to begin with. But it dies as swiftly as she thinks if her nature is so evident that, out of all the memories she had seen, he can tell her attention was captured by _that_ particular figment.

“Yes, it’s safe and hidden if that’s what you’re worried about.” She can’t keep the bite off her voice.

“No. I’m worried about you. Don’t use it again. Let go of it as soon as possible.”

“And how do you know I’ve used it already?”

“Because I wouldn’t keep away from it either,” he tells her with that kind smile that means he cares for her, “but I mean it. Do not use it again. Get rid of it.”

 “Why would I do that?”

“That stone was made to drive people to Death. To make them long for the ones they lost badly enough that they would choose to end their lives. If you keep using it to see your parents, you’ll wish…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, simply raising his eyes to her face. And she can see the care in there. And she hates it.

“Right. Because you’d be so concerned if I wanted to die. Like me being alive makes your life any easier-”

“Don’t ever say that again!” he cuts in and his anger is almost palpable, “I do not want you to die, I care and worry about you as much as I do for Teddy, believe it or not.”

She hates his worry. She hates his care. Because she cannot understand how he can possibly worry about her after what she did to him. Because deep in that place where she locked that night away from her thoughts, she locked her realizations about it, too.

He couldn’t possibly worry about her if he knew what happened, if he truly knew her, if he even thought her a tenth of how dark she really is. In her anger, she decides pushing him away is better now, before she crumbles before him and spills her hurt.

“You were never more powerful than him. You were never the better wizard! You only succeeded because you were the Master of Death, because the Elderwand was yours and not his that day!”

“That and a little something else, Delphie-“

“Don’t call me that! I’m Delphini to you. Actually, Miss Lestrange in these walls! And don’t tell me you still believe that silly thing about love. I happen to know a few things about my Father and he could love. He did love. He loved my Mother, I saw it. He just wasn’t stupid enough to put love above everything else, like you do.”

Because that is what hurts her the most.

She storms out of the room, desperate to be distracted. Wishing that Teddy is waiting for her somewhere, with his smile and his chocolate. If he is not, then she can spend her time revising for Ancient Runes. Anything to keep her mind away from the pain.

Not the wounds in her palms, not even the memory of the pain that caused them. What hurts her the most is not that she saw love between her parents, not that she saw love in her Mother’s eyes at first, even if it was replaced by something else altogether in the end.

What hurts her the most is that there was no love in her Father’s eyes.

X

_King’s Cross Station, June 30 th, 2013_

She stands at the platform, waiting for her grandson to jump off the train. She soon spots the bright blue that gives his presence away. He is in the middle of a loud group of young students, rising fifth years she guesses, promising each other that they’ll write and even visit during the summer. She enjoys the view from the shadow of a pillar, trying to appease her still bleeding heart over the memories of an unruly girl that used to be just the same, and of a man that used to welcome her with open arms and warm laughter every time.

Teddy comes away from the small crowd, but doesn’t move towards her. He is standing on the platform, looking around, raking his hair with his fingers. Until he sees a girl with a shock of black hair that emerges from the train. She too is followed by a group of her friends down the steps. She is ahead of them or in front of them, never in the middle, she notices.

Andromeda didn’t really notice the girl the other times. She would rather not face her existence.  She nods to Narcissa from a distance, acknowledging her presence there and their shared past, but there is no future for the two of them together. So she did not pay much attention to her sister’s niece. This time, she notices. Even if she can’t bring herself to think of her as her niece too. She is so much Bella’s that it is hard to see anyone else in her. But Andromeda insists on looking for her father in her features. She doesn’t find Rodolphus, not at all. That is very Bella too, making sure she has the whole of her daughter. Getting all the attention in a room, as per usual.

She has the curls, the raven black hair, the look of superiority, the beautiful chiselled features of old blood, the disdainful laughter, the mischievous smirk. The entirety of this girl looks like Bellatrix. She has the willowy but graceful build, the height, the long legs, the pale ivory skin, the wide eyes.

_She even tosses her hair over her shoulders the same way, for Merlin’s sake!_

The omnipresence of Bellatrix in this girl that had a mother for no longer than ten months drives shivers down her spine. She knows the girl is different. She knows the girl did not kill her daughter, or served the most powerful Dark Lord in Wizarding History, or went mad in Azkaban as punishment for terrible crimes. She forces herself to abide by her beliefs, that a name doesn’t make a wizard or a witch, that a surname does not define you, cannot define you. It’s why she was burnt off the tapestry at Grimmauld Place after all.

_You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood._

She keeps chanting in her mind, forcing herself to shed her prejudice.

_She is not like Bellatrix. She is not like Bellatrix. She is not like Bellatrix. She is not like Bellatrix. She is not like Bellatrix. She is not like Bellatrix._

_But she does look a lot like her._

_Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix._

There are some differences though. They are not Rodolphus little pieces, more like slight deviations from the image of Bellatrix. A bit off on the cheeks, something a tiny bit different about her nose. It’s all very slight, but it’s all not Bella’s and that somehow makes it easier.

_Except Rodolphus wasn’t any better._

_You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood._

And then the girl’s wide eyes claim her attention as Teddy walks away from her. She is watching him go, throwing one last teasing joke before walking the other way, to her own family.

_Her eyes are not grey like Bella’s. But Rodolphus’ were dark…_

Her heart sinks to her feet. The green. She sees her father now.

And it is not Rodolphus.

She remembers that green, that undeniably gorgeous shade of green. Slytherin. Emerald. She remembers it from the eyes of a man who used to hold an entire room on his whims. Before he became a monster that held entire rooms on terror.

Her heart almost beats out of her chest. Then stops altogether. Then beats again, frantically, no rhythm whatsoever. She feels faint, and her right hand travels to the pillar while the left flies to her forehead.

_You will not judge the girl for her blood. She is not like Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix. Not Bellatrix._

_Worse._

_So very much worse._

_It’s much, much worse. How could they let it happen? How could they let her live? Why would they keep her?_

She must find Potter, she must let him know. He must not know, she figures, or he wouldn’t let _her_ be around Teddy. He loves that boy almost as dearly as she does. He would let no harm come to him. He will keep the girl at bay once he learns the truth.

Andromeda hurries to his side.

“I need to talk to you. It’s urgent. Not here. Not now. But soon.” Her hand grasps Potter’s arm like a vicious claw, her nails digging into the fabric.

“Mrs. Tonks?” Potter’s eyes are round as saucers. They are also clueless about her distress. They are also green and she simply cannot stand it right now.

She walks away from Harry at that, and he stays behind wondering what sort of jinx it her. He quickly remembers to move and catch up, reaching Teddy at the same time Andromeda does. After the caring welcome, he invites them over.

“How about you two come by? You can have dinner with us. Ginny and the kids will love to see you again.”

“Oh yes, Teddy. We should go.” She can tell her grandson is picking up on all her eagerness, and finding it very excessive. Unusual. Unlike her. He is the one who accepts invitations to Grimmauld Place, she always declines and counters with dinner at their own house. But she needs to get Potter alone in a secure room. And if that means she must go back to Grimmauld Place and stay for a few hours, she will go to the damned place and stay. Because she must keep Teddy safe.

X

Delphini knows something is up the second she catches a glimpse of Andromeda out of the corner of her eye. When she allows her eyes to focus on the witch, she feels the panic irradiating from her mind, the hatred, the realization.

Andromeda knows who she really is.

Andromeda can destroy everything with that knowledge.

Delphini won’t allow it. Cannot allow it. Not for her sake, but for the sake of her family. They will be utterly destroyed by Wizarding Britain should the truth ever be known.

But she doesn’t have a way. No path is clear. She flexes her hands, feeling the still healing tissues fight the movement, using the pain to remind her of all the people she kept safe by dropping the Stone.

X

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London_

It’s not as she remembers it. It’s far brighter now, happier. Much of the artefacts are gone. All the things meant to trap and hurt and maim that she grew up with are gone. She asks Ginny if she can wander about for a while. She needs to come to terms with this house. She makes her first stop in the hallway upstairs; remembering the one time Narcissa had pulled her wand on her, to stop her from going. She doesn’t dwell long on that night. It’s gone, over and buried with her memories of her childhood. She climbs to the very last floor, where her cousins had their rooms. She remembers being invited over to her Uncle and Aunt’s and quickly making it up here, dragged by either Sirius or Regulus. There used to be two names on these doors, and very different rooms beyond them. Both doors are ajar now, and the rooms are different. But so are the names on the doors. James and Albus. As unlike as the previous brothers, as similar as them.

_Potter kept his promise. He turned this house into a place where two boys can be happy._

She can hear the laughter of those boys, mixing with their sister’s and her own boy. She can’t make out the words, but she can tell Ginny is scolding them for something.

She has heard and seen Teddy laugh with his cousin on the platform so many times now. And in Diagon Alley, where they are careful to go separate ways far from her. Or she is, and Teddy finds a way to escape her sight and reach Delphini every time.

It’s for the better, she keeps telling herself, if Teddy and her never meet again. He’ll be torn, she knows, but he’ll come to peace with their decision. They’ll just find a way to keep her away. For the greater good.

There is someone climbing up the stairs. Potter’s messy hair pops into sight from behind the bannister.

“Dinner’s almost ready. But I thought maybe you wanted to talk first, Mrs. Tonks.”

“No, Harry, thank you. After dinner will be fine.” She owes Teddy a careless dinner at his godfather’s house before the storm breaks. And so she follows him downstairs, to a dining room she is quite sure never saw such joy in all its years under the Blacks.

X

She realizes it then. She can see the why now. She can see the reason.

_Morgana save me! He was right… he, of all people, was right._

She laughs loudly. For a couple of minutes, she cackles and she is well aware that she sounds just like Bellatrix. Just as mad and unhinged as her crazed sister.

_I might just be crazier, after all. He was right. They love her and they are weaker for it. They do not see the danger, they do not see the darkness hovering above them._

She has been in this room alone with Potter for the last hour. Trying to convince him desperately of the absolute need to eliminate the threat that the girl poses. Letting him know who her real father is. Only to learn that he already knew, has known since the day of the Battle. That he took part in this plan, in keeping her concealed for as long as possible when she was little, in keeping her a Lestrange before the eyes of the world… the Golden Trio has been siding with the Malfoys for over a decade and a half, keeping a very dangerous act going right under the nose of the Ministry. She can see it now. He won’t change his mind.

He keeps giving her reasons. That the girl doesn’t know, never will know, of her origins. That she is good, and kind, and warm. To a very select group of people, he’ll give her that, but so is she. She is a brilliant student, a sharp mind. She has complete control of her magic and she is skilled. She is not dangerous, or dark, or vicious. She would never use her wand with the purpose of causing harm for the fun of it like her parents. She is not hungry for power as they were. She was raised in tolerance and in love. She has light to her. She knows everything about her Mother and the War. Andromeda stops him there.

She does not know everything about her Mother, or she would know who her Father really was. A brilliant student? So was he. A sharp mind? So was she, before Azkaban. One by one, she tears apart every argument, every reason. Because she sees nothing but a promise of darkness made human, made after their image of perfection, and she sees it too close to Teddy.

_All those rumours about Scorpius and Astoria and the answer is right there! And no one sees it!_

They stay in that room for hours still, going nowhere. Teddy comes up to check on his Grandmother, but the door is closed and silencing spells are on it. Ginny comes up later to let them know that the kids are going to bed and that Teddy is sleeping over too, but no one answers her knocks.

Andromeda does see an opportunity at that. She can tell Ginny and trust her to not let matters go unnoticed. She has a hold on the doorknob when Harry stops her in the most painful way.

“Andromeda,” he never addresses her like that, “you know what it feels like to be in exile, to be shunned by the world you’ve known all your life. Would you cause another sixteen-year-old girl that kind of sorrow?”

She lets go of the doorknob as if it burns her. Her mind is under a wave of memories of two seventeen-year-olds, a Slytherin girl and a Hufflepuff boy, of a girl who became a castaway so that they could be together. Tears of anger and pain stream down her high cheekbones, down her chin, dangling from the angle of her jaw, falling from her face.

“I’ll keep your filthy secret then, Potter. I’ll tell no one of the Dark Lord’s daughter. But I will not have Teddy grow even closer with her. The moment she is out of Hogwarts, he’ll see her no more.”

She doesn’t allow him the chance to answer. She opens the door and proceeds to march outside, not even acknowledging Ginny’s presence in the corridor. She takes a deep breath of cold night air once she is standing in the steps outside number 12. She should know better than to hope for good things when at Grimmauld Place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I let myself run with it and this thing is two thousand words about what it’s supposed to be. But I was done cutting things and moving events to the next chapter, so, I hope you don’t mind.  
> I’ve never been so nervous about a chapter in this past year. Because I needed Bellatrix and Voldemort to be in character enough to be right, but out of character enough to be their beyond-the-veil versions. And now I’m here, dreading what you may have to say about it  
> *Taps keyboard nervously and runs the F away*
> 
> EDIT 06/08: Maybe I didn't make myself clear with that last sentence but, just, really? I can't tell that 30 to 40 people, at least, have read this chapter already and not a word of feedback? Really?  
> Don't take me wrong but if you're commited enough to this story to subscribe, would it be too much to ask to leave your thoughts to the person commited to writing it? Because feedback and criticism would be highly appreciated. I'm not begging for praise here, I just really want some feedback. It's been 45 chapters and thousands of words, is it really so hard?


	46. The Augurey's Calling

Andromeda slams the door on her way out and Harry is left on the corridor gaping. Standing there and staring. Wondering and worrying.

Terrified.

Utterly terrified that the slamming of the black heavy door might just be the sound of their carefully constructed protections collapsing. The castle made of cards finally swept away by the displacement of the air around him. The web of lies destroyed by the flight-made-fury of the stars.

Ginny is there, just behind him. He does not have to turn around to know, her presence is something palpable to his mind, her scent in the air captured by his very pores. Still, he is startled when her hand meets his shoulder.

His ears register her voice, his brain not so much.

His brain instead orders his voice to start pouring all of his thoughts. Thoughts that now tumble over his teeth and off his lips, a never ending stream that leaves the bitter taste of fear in the back of his throat.

"Ginny, what have I done? Ginny, I lied to her. Andromeda knows the truth about Delphini and I spent all this time trying to convince her not to say anything, and I think I did it, but I lied to her, Ginny. I lied. She will only keep quiet because of that lie, Ginny, how did I do this? How do I stop it?"

Ginny halts the cascading words by putting her fingers over his lips. Just two fingers of her right hand, as her left hand slides over his shoulder and his neck, climbing up to cradle his cheek. His head leans in, instinctively. If Ginny, who had looked so horrified that night when he had told her and Ron the truth about Delphini, still deems him worthy of her touch then surely things can't be that bad.

But they are. Of course they are. Andromeda said she wouldn't tell the truth about Delphini, but how will he keep Teddy from learning of it once his grandmother stops him from seeing her? How will he keep Teddy from turning on them in anger? How will he keep Delphini from turning on them, too? They'll need answers, the both of them, and Merlin's beard his scar almost hurts at the thought of explaining it all to Teddy. At the thought of letting Delphini turn into some sort of pariah.

When he touches his scar, a simple habit now, an unconscious gesture when in worry, Ginny pulls his hand away to hold it between hers. Apparently, he talked while she took him by the other hand to their sitting room, while she sat him down on the sofa and made herself comfortable by his side. His brain did not register his own words, let alone her actions.

"What do you mean, Harry? How did you lie to her?"

"I told Mrs. Tonks that Delphini does not know who her Father is."

Ginny's hands leave his, jolting away only to come back immediately to his face, holding his face close to hers. Her blue eyes have grown wide, he notices, the blue becoming acute somehow, frantic even.

"She knows? Harry, are you sure? Absolutely sure?"

And he has no other way around it but to explain it all to Ginny, in detail. Yes, he is sure she knows since her visit to Azkaban. Yes, he is sure for he felt her determination in getting to the bottom of it, when she searched his mind. Yes, he is absolutely certain that she knows.

Not only does she know about her Father, but she has used the Resurrection Stone to meet him. He suspects it did not go how she expected. He saw the shadow in her haunted eyes that day, a familiar ghost that lived in his eyes for the better part of eleven years.

"She knows, Ginny, I am sure of it. She won't talk of it, there is no interest in doing so. Of that, she is acutely aware. But she will be alone, Ginny. Should the truth be known, she will be alone. The Malfoys can't talk to her about Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort, or whatever they may call him. They won't be able to help her. And she won't stay with them if she feels like she's endangering them. She worries, Ginny, she cares, they raised her to be someone entirely different to her parents and _that_ will be her undoing. Don't you see? She will be all alone if I don't stand with her."

Ginny doesn't even try to change his mind. She knows him too well to even dream of him doing something other than protecting her, from whatever the world decides to throw at her, even her own blood.

But she will not let him become a martyr once more. She will not let him go alone and leave her behind like he did over a decade ago.

"It's useless, Harry, you can't. You can't and you won't and I will stay by your side, no matter what you decide. No matter what happens. You're not facing Andromeda, or the Ministry or whoever else comes for Delphini on your own."

"But Ginny-"

"Hush now, Harry," she tells him with a playful little smirk hidden in the corner of her mouth, "there is no need for that. You don't have to explain. I know. Somehow, you look at her and see yourself. She never lived in a cupboard, she never went hungry, and Merlin knows she never went unloved for a single day of her life, but you look at her and see yourself. I only ask that you do not sacrifice yourself. You walked to your death once, and that is the one thing I will keep you from doing this time."

X

_Malfoy Manor, July 3 rd 2013_

Delphini has been counting the days. Not just since she came home, but ever since the day a stranger grabbed her by the wrist and told her, with a deranged look in her eyes, that she had a role to fulfil.

Three days is not so bad.

No one has come barging into her house for these past three days, so she figures Teddy's grandmother hasn't acted on what she now knows. From what she knows about Andromeda Tonks, she may well decide to keep the secret to herself. She hopes so, even if the odds are slight.

She has given herself time to enjoy being around her family again. Andromeda knowing her true parentage may put an end to life as she knows it, so she will enjoy them, enjoy every minute with them. She plays Quidditch with Scorpius for entire afternoons, until they are both exhausted and craving showers. But mostly, she plays until Scorpius is tired enough to barely make it through dinner awake, so that he sleeps through the night, no dreams, no nightmares, no worrying about Astoria.

Astoria isn't exactly worst. She has simply ceased to improve. She can make it up a flight of stairs, but can never quite catch her breath afterwards. She struggles if she laughs for a while, but she gets around the house. Scorpius still worries though, and Delphini knows. He comes into her rooms in the morning to cuddle with her, unafraid of the snake he almost always finds curled around her shoulders or on her lap and she soothes him. She whispers in his ear simple little nonsense phrases of endearment, and he smiles. She tells him he story of how she made a canopy bed fly around Hogwarts, and he laughs.

But she needs to soothe her own mind today, so she makes her way downstairs, bare feet taking turns showing and disappearing under the hem of her long skirt, curls bouncing behind her, held off of her face by engraved silver side combs she got for getting Outstandings in all her OWLs. She left Guivre sunbathing on the window ledge, but Vicious follows her steps silently. Blackie, she figures, must be out hunting.

It's still early, but the day promises to be warm, so she knows exactly where to find her family. They will be enjoying sunlight before it becomes too hot, too oppressive to endure. She leans against the doorjamb of the sunroom, smiling at the sight before her. No matter what the wraiths of her parents may say, she belongs here, she is theirs and they are hers.

Draco is the first to notice her, smirking at the sight of her feet on the marble floor as he peeks over the newspaper. Uncle Lucius speaks up first though.

"I believe we provide you with shoes. Unless you've somehow left them all at Hogwarts?"

She laughs, bright and joyful, unburdened. Yes, she is home. This is family. This is right. And she is about to disrupt the peace once more.

"Where is Scorpius?" she asks, walking towards them.

"Bothering the peacocks, I hope," Draco answers, earning himself a glare from Uncle Lucius, "or up to some other shenanigan, like nine year old boys are supposed to be. Why do you ask?" His tone drops. He knows something is up.

"I need to talk to you. I suppose you've talked about what happened at the platform?"

She uses the hesitation they all display to set herself down on a large embroidered pillow on the floor, next to Aunt Narcissa's legs. Vicious promptly arranges himself in the bend of her knees, big blue eyes drawing shut when she combs his soft fur. Her hair caresses her bare arms, moving with the breeze.

"I was starting to wonder when you'd bring it up, really," Aunt Narcissa says, caressing her hair, "I wasn't there, but I know that Euphemia Rowle came up to you and told you about a prophecy..." True to her nature, their nature really, she lets her complete the sentence. One never gives up information unnecessarily.

"She did. But I don't want you to talk to me about it," she adds before anyone can say anything, "I'm afraid it will trigger the Vow, somehow. I just need to know where I can find her. She seemed eager enough to tell me about it right there."

"Delphini, the Vow has nothing to do with the prophecy. Potter and Granger know nothing of it, so they couldn't include it," Draco smiles, but it does not reach his eyes, "however, this will be a very short conversation. There was a prophecy about you, yes, but prophecies have a long history of going unfulfilled, so you need not worry. Your future is not written inside some crystal ball."

"Draco, I have to know! If I can't have this conversation with you, I'll have it with Madam Rowle. I'm done not knowing things. Will you tell me where to find her?"

She is furious. Utterly enraged. After everything that happened that night in the Chamber, she can't simply brush the prophecy off. There is clearly some sort of mission she is supposed to accomplish, some end of her Father that she is supposed to help reach.

She needs to know what the prophecy says so that she can avoid fulfilling it.

She talked to her dead parents and she cannot tell her family about it without getting them all killed. She cannot risk moving in the direction her Mother wished her to, the one her Father so clearly desired, for that will surely get them all killed. She needs to know which path to avoid, where not to go, which stones are best left unturned.

 _"Never pity the losing, Delphini. There is a reason they lost."_ Her Mother's words have haunted since that night.

 _They lost for a reason. Lord Voldemort fell a second time for a reason_ , she thinks, as she looks at the palms of her hands, where the wounds have healed but the pain remains.

Euphemia Rowle came to her offering knowledge. Her Mother told her, clearly, that she is the one holding the information Delphini needs to bring them back. If she gets to the prophecy, she can make sure she will never fulfil it. Or so she hopes.

"Delphini, we cannot tell you where to find her," Uncle Lucius' eyes do not allow for the smallest argument, "because we do not know. We hadn't heard of her since the war ended, and she never tried to reach us. None of us know why she decided to go to you that day, and she never came to us. We do not know."

"But we can help you look," Aunt Narcissa cuts in, earning herself several bewildered stares.

"Narcissa, we have talked about this. Euphemia Rowle is dangerous to us and probably very dangerous to Delphini-"

"No, Lucius. I'm sorry, I know this isn't what you wanted, but we both know this matter will not be brushed off our lives. And I won't have my child be haunted by what a crystal ball may or may not say!"

Delphini is speechless at that. "My child" Aunt Narcissa said. Not Delphini, not my niece. _My child._

Also, she has never seen her openly disagree with Uncle Lucius. They have always been one united front in all matters concerning her.

"Just tell me one thing, little bird," she is talking to her again, taking her cheeks in her hands, and turning her face up, carefully, towards her, "tell me that you understand that words from a crystal ball are wind. Tell me that you understand your fate is not set in stone, and I'll help you find Euphemia." Her grey eyes are shiny with tears she won't shed.

Delphini needs a moment to compose herself, to make sure her voice still works.

"I do, Aunt Cissa. I know prophecies don't always come true. I know my fate isn't set in stone." She can hardly keep her eyes from turning grey, but then Aunt Narcissa has just referred to her as "my child, so she lets them. And she lets her tears fall.

Aunt Narcissa lowers her face to hers, kissing her forehead before hugging her close, tears staining her dress. And Delphini feels immensely safe in that embrace.

This is her home, this is her family, and she belongs here. Her future will not be determined by a crystal ball. Her actions will not be dictated by dark shadows of who her parents used to be.

But she crosses eyes with Astoria for a second, who silently sits by the side of Draco, head on his shoulder. In the glance they share, they see each other's thoughts mirrored. Some things _are_ set in stone, no matter what you do, no matter how much you wish they weren't true.

There's a curse upon Astoria. Delphini fears there may be another upon her.

X

Narcissa watches Delphini's eyes turn grey and is assured in her decision. She is just as relentless as her parents were in their search for answers, but she is nothing like them in her ends.

She is doing this for closure. In the same way she craves knowledge because it allows her control. Delphini does not crave power over others, only control over herself and her circumstance.

She merely wants to complete the puzzle, to obtain the whole picture of her origin.

Narcissa has watched over her niece during the three days she has been home, careful not to be noticed. If Delphini wished it, she could be private to every thought in every mind in this house, but Narcissa knows it is not so. There would be no escaping an ever vigilant _Legilimens_ , she knows.

She remembers.

Slowly, she lets a weird sort of happiness crawl up her chest, from the fear that initially lived in her belly, and take up residence around her heart. It's a quaint little thing, that happiness, a foreign contentment that she welcomes in her life. She feels safe, and she has not felt safe in a long time.

Ridiculous as it may be, Delphini finally knowing the truth about her Father has brought her peace. Delphini knowing that her darkness has its roots in the most powerful Dark Lord to have ever risen soothes her mind, preposterous as it may be. Delphini knowing that the Lestrange at the end of her name is nothing but a scam for the world to buy into has removed the sheen of worry from her eyes, and now she sees the world anew.

More than just the happiness and safety it brings, Narcissa is grateful that her home has not been destroyed. For even if they cannot speak of Lord Voldemort, his name no longer feels like a sword about to fall upon her head. Her home is not haunted by his shadow anymore.

She remembers what her house used to feel like. What if felt like to always be on guard in her own home, eyeing the ill-chained beasts that her former master had released. Seeing Lucius be munched down the packing order. Draco had never climbed the ranks to start with, but he was equally destroyed. She remembers how she was forever fearful for her husband and child in those days.

She remembers holding Delphini in her arms in the safety of her nursery, a happy little thing despite all that surrounded her. She remembers wondering about what the happy little thing would turn out to be. Wondering if she would become the feral right-hand of power her parents expected her to be.

But Delphini knows now and her house feels nothing like what it used to when her Father ruled here. _She_ rules here now and there is no fear in Narcissa's mind because of it. There is no ill-chained creature in her home. Just a happy creature that isn't so little anymore.

X

_Malfoy Manor, July 17 th 2013_

Having to pace her time isn't really something Delphini enjoys, but she has been trying. As promised, Aunt Narcissa has made subtle questions here and there, at the gatherings they attend. It took too long, way too long, because they couldn't risk rising suspicion, but they have what they need now.

They've established that Madam Rowle lives alone in her state, mostly isolated from wizarding society. Thorfinn Rowle was little over a soldier, even if he made for a dangerous adversary in duel. Euphemia's work as a Healer had been welcomed by the cause, but St. Mungo's did not hold the door open for her. Apparently, she lives of whatever was left after the Ministry was done confiscating objects, obtaining compensations and locking wizards and witches at Azkaban. Thorfinn is there for the remainder of his life, just like Rodolphus.

The thought had crossed her mind, that first night after meeting her parents in the Chamber, to write to Rodolphus. But he was bound to the lie that shrouds her true nature far before any Unbreakable Vows were made.

She was planning to go to Rowle House today, but Auror Potter happens to be downstairs, making his summer visit. There would be nothing unusual about it, except Auror Weasley is not with him and he's three days early. She can feel the minds of everyone in the Manor when she focuses, and Auror Weasley is simply not downstairs. She looks in the mirror one last time, adjusting the ribbon on her side ponytail, before dashing to the sitting room.

"Auror Potter," she greets, nodding towards him, "I thought Auror Weasley would be coming with you, on the 20th." She keeps a smile on her lips, but she does not like where this seems to be going.

"Delphie… that was unnecessary. Though you are missing your sidekick, Potter," Draco jumps in the conversation from the far corner, pouring cold drinks for the three of them, "where is Ron?" He approaches Harry, extending him a glass, while Delphini makes sure to levitate hers from the teacart.

"Could you please not do that? It would be easier if I didn't have to lie in my report, Delphini."

Harry takes a seat across her, on an armchair, smiling without really meaning to. Draco is observing them keenly, trying to figure out what sort of unspoken quarrel they are trying to settle.

"Sorry, it's force of habit," she answers, playing the innocent, "what about Auror Weasley, then, is he unwell?"

"Oh, no. Ron's fine. He has decided to cease working as an Auror. He wants to help George with the shop. And he'll have more time for the kids, so that Hermione can really focus on her career now."

"Ah, Granger is moving up, I've heard! Not sure about letting Weasel into the world of business…" Draco winks, but Delphini rolls her eyes. Here comes the usual banter.

"Yeah, I guess she is. She is Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, now."

"Not to mention Shacklebolt has been grooming her to be the next Ministry of Magic."

"Yeah, that he is. Anyway, Ron had had enough with this, it's best for the both of them."

Delphini senses that a lot has been left unsaid concerning the matter, not to mention Potter isn't interested in debating it in the least.

"Potter," Draco calls, clearly fed up with trying to make conversation, "what is the matter? You're early, Weasley is not with you, and your mind is barely within the Manor, let alone in this room." He speaks to Harry, but finishes the sentence with a meaningful look towards her.

"I haven't done anything. I was busy studying for my OWLs, remember?"

"Yes! Those, how did you do Delphini? Have you heard back?" Potter is desperately trying to adhere to small talk, for now.

"I did very well, thank you. I heard back on the first week of summer holidays,” she knows he knows that, and he probably heard of her grades the same day she did, “Outstandings all around."

Potter's eyebrows fly up, then his hand combs back his hair, leaving it messier than it was. She doesn't need to see into his mind to know what he is thinking. He didn’t know, which is odd.

"Well, congratulations! I guess I'll send two gifts on your birthday."

It all feels awkward. These so called inspections used to be easy, with carefree chatter between the two Aurors and the younger Malfoy couple. But Ron isn't here, and neither is Astoria, so it's all a bit stunted today.

"Draco, would you mind leaving us? I need to talk to Delphini. Alone."

"Alone?"

"He means he needs to talk to me about you-know-what," Delphini's voice cuts in, sharp, almost bitter, "and since I wouldn't have you dying over Auror Potter's inquiry, could you give us the room for a while? Please?" She remembers to ask in the end, because it is Draco she is talking to, but today, of all days, she is not happy about discussing the matter of her Father with Harry bloody Potter.

The room falls silent. Draco hesitates, resting his arms on the armchair. Then, he gets up, striding towards the door. He stops just a couple of steps away from the threshold, worry clear on his features.

"Do I need to ask for both your wands? Should I worry about the Ministry, Potter? Do I have to reinforce the wards?"

"Wha-what? No! It's alright, Malfoy, it is. The Ministry isn't coming for any of you. And I trust Delphini not to arm me,” he chuckles, even though he shouldn’t trust her, “I just want to know how she's dealing with all this."

Draco nods, walking past the door and closing it behind him.

" _Colloportus. Muffliato_ ," Delphini murmurs immediately, her wand emerging from the long flowy sleeves of her dress, "is it Andromeda Tonks? Is that why Auror Ron isn't here?"

Harry seems jarred by that.

"How do you know about Mrs. Tonks? Has she written to you? Visited?"

Delphini answers him with a half-enraged, half-disbelief glare. As if she needs people to talk to her to know what they're thinking.

"Right… No, it's not Andromeda Tonks. And Ron leaving has nothing to do with you."

A lie, she can tell, and a badly told one. But she'll let it slide if it means getting to the point any faster. Harry's shoulders slump and he lowers his torso to set his glass on the floor, by the foot of his seat. When his eyes meet hers again, she knows exactly what this is all about. And she intends on nipping it in the bud.

"It is none of your business, but fine, I'll tell you. Yes, I met my parents. I used the Stone to talk to them, yes. No, I do not have it with me, so no, I haven't done it again since I was busy tending to my duties in what concerns my education. That's it. I'm not talking about this anymore."

With that, she sits back on the sofa, crossing her legs, idly swirling the glass in her hand, a defiant look in her eyes.

"Fair enough. Though I was going to ask about how you're doing, in the face of it all-"

"Don't. Don't you dare. You took away my chance of talking to the only people I'd feel minimally comfortable discussing the issue with. The only people who could actually answer my questions about Lord Voldemort. You do not get to worry about me. You have no right of doing so. You turned You-Know-Who into You-Know-What within these walls. I fear mentioning my parents to my family because of what you did!"

She stands up hastily, placing her glass on the cart as she walks past it, her dress billowing around her legs on the path to the door, stopping only to face him for a moment.

" _Finite Incantatem. Alohomora._ I can escort you to the door, if you wish."

Potter isn't even up from his seat yet, so she doesn't linger. She turns on the spot and walks straight to the library. If he doesn't know his way to the door, the house-elf can help him. She hears nothing but the click and soft thump of her shoes on wood floors and rugs. Her hand is wrapped around the bird skull that hangs from her neck.

She closes the door behind her once she reaches the library, leaning against the wood. He has no right to her pain. He has no right to her trouble. And she is in pain. She had been successfully burying it in her chest, deep in a corner of her mind, until now.

They made her choose. Her parents made her choose between them and her family, and all she wants is to be right, to make the right choice She wants to choose the right path, the one that keeps her family alive, but what if her fate is set? What if she is meant for something despite her will? What if there is no path for her but the one where she gets her parents but loses her family?

She wipes the tears she didn't want to cry in the first place. Until she knows what her prophecy says, there is only one way. Forward. She points her wand at one of the shelves and an old book flies towards her. The leather of its cover used to have colour to it, but the centuries have eaten it away. The letters of its title are etched deep, though, and the gold still shines through in some places.

Delphini settles on her favourite armchair, by the window, curled up and setting the book on her lap. If she is to meet Euphemia Rowle, she will be prepared. _Of Omens, Oracles and Fates_ should have something she can use. Caressing the polished leather of the cover, she looks for a path of her own.

X

_Rowle House, July 18 th  2013_

She can barely believe herself. She is still dizzy from Apparating here, but Aunt Narcissa steadies her. Delphini feels like her stomach hasn’t quite arrived yet, but she forces the nausea away and faces her aunt.

"You have to go now, Aunt Cissa. I have to go alone."

"No! Little bird, I could never let you go alone. Not to Euphemia. I don't know what the years have done to her, but I did not trust her around you when you were a baby, and I certainly do not trust her now."

"Aunt Cissa, you didn't see the look on her face at the platform. When she realized you hadn't told me... she wasn't just confused. She was angry. And I don't trust her anywhere near you. Or you around her, quite frankly."

Aunt Narcissa argues, but they both know how this will go. She tries to stay behind and wait here, but Delphini convinces her to leave. She needs to be completely focused, and she can’t be if she’s concerned with Narcissa coming in at any strange sound, or light or spark.

“I figured you would say so. Draco made this for you,” she says, extending a worn out black button on the palm of her hand, “hold it in your hand, tight, and whisper _Domus_. It will take you home in the same instant.” She runs her fingers through Delphini’s hair, pushing a strand behind her ear, while she takes the button into the pocket of her robes.

Delphini watches her Aunt turn right and vanish in a whirl and a crack. Then, and only then, she looks down from the hill where she stands. Down the hill and past the meadow, there is a stately house, half way between a small castle and a manor, clearly beaten by the years. She makes her way down slowly, wishing she had brought Guivre along. She would like to have the cool of his scales against her skin right now. To have it steady her running heart.

There is a sorry excuse of a garden at the front door. It’s mostly unkempt. No gates, very few wards. This is obviously the house of someone that’s not used to having visitors. Still, she does the right thing. Coming uninvited, she stands still at the place where she can feel the wards sensing her magic, and waits.

Then she steps forward, walking to the double doors and tasting metal in her mouth. She collects herself in front of the old copper knocker. She raises her hand to it, but the door comes ajar before she can touch it.

A scrawny house-elf is looking up at her from her knees. He bows as he makes way for her, nearly touching his large nose to the floor.

“Mistress awaits you in the sitting room. If you’d come this way, Miss.”

Delphini steps inside the dark house. There’s very little sunlight inside and her eyes take a while to adjust. She can hear a sorrowful cry somewhere in the house. She follows the limping house-elf through the hallway, noticing how everything is covered in a patina of decay. She enters the sitting room as the witch inside rises from one of the sofas.

She is just as she remembered. The brownish-blonde hair. The light eyes, which she can now see are light-green, just on the verge of blue. She stands up very straight, proud, with a glint to her pupils that isn’t entirely comforting. She curtsies, as any well-mannered pureblood woman is wont to in the presence of a superior.

She doesn’t feel superior at all. This woman holds all the cards, as they stand now. She knows everything Delphini wants to. But she plays along, curtsying back not so deeply, in the dance of etiquette that she knows well.

“Miss Lestrange, I am honoured. Or should I say Miss Gaunt?” Her voice is more levelled today, soothing. A good voice for a Healer, one made to transmit confidence, calm. It still drives a shiver down her back and up again to the back of her head. _Miss Gaunt_. That is who she was supposed to be, in another world, in another future, in another time.

“Madam Rowle, thank you for having me. And I must beg your pardon for coming uninvited. It’s Miss Black though.” Her voice is just as collected, but there’s an undertone, like the iron fist beneath the velvet of a glove.

“There’s no need for apologies, Miss Black,” she nods, with an honest smile, “let us have a seat, then. I believe we have a great deal to discuss. Lapbey, bring in the teacart.”

The house-elf pops away and right back, pushing a cart with iced tea, biscuits and jam.

“Leave now,” Euphemia orders, waving her hand dismissively. She takes a moment to adjust her sitting, enough to reach the cart easily and pour two glasses of iced tea, pushing the plate of biscuits in Delphini’s direction.

She takes the offering mostly out of nervousness. How does one start such a conversation? Luckily enough, Euphemia takes the lead.

“Have they truly told you nothing about me?”

Delphini shakes her head, still devoid of words. For the first time in her life, her charm is failing her, completely. She can’t think of a single thing to say, not even make small talk.

“I was there when you were born, Miss Black,” she sounds almost hurt, but there is scorn in her tone as well, “I was the one supposed to take you if things went wrong, not _them_ , but Rodolphus never came to me.”

Delphini’s eyebrows climb her forehead at that. Rodolphus Lestrange was supposed to give her up? From what she saw in her mind, he most definitely wouldn’t.

“Don’t look at me like that again! Have they told you nothing, Delphini? I’m sorry, Miss Black.” She looks at her with fear in her eyes, and Delphini picks up on a memory of pain attached to a face very similar to hers.  But she waves the slight away, sipping from her glass.

“You may call me Delphini. Everyone does, out of Hogwarts that is.” Euphemia scoffs at that, as if it were absurd, but carries on.

“Of course he was supposed to come to me. He was left behind watching over you for the Battle but the deal was simple. If all went well, he would hide you away until the Dark Lord’s power was clearly established and the resistance dealt with. If things went wrong though, he would bring you to me and run for it. Either way, the world would not know of you until the Dark Lord deemed it so. You can imagine my surprise when neither of those things happened.”

“Why didn’t you go to Malfoy Manor, then? You must have known things had gone wrong.”

“I couldn’t. My orders were to stay put. If the Malfoys didn’t return from battle, the Ministry would find you and simply suppose you were the Lestranges’ daughter. With your looks, it was an easy assumption. They had papers for you, too, ready to be filed. What business would I have in that house? It would raise suspicion; probably guarantee me a place at Azkaban, where I would not be able to set things in motion.”

Delphini sets her glass down, fearing it will show just how badly her hands have started to shake.

“Set things in motion, Madam Rowle? What things?”

“The return of the Dark Lord, obviously! Gods of old, they have kept you in the dark. Come, I’ll show you.” She sets her own glass down, rising and motioning for her to follow her.

Delphini is not at ease at all following Euphemia around the poorly lit corridors. All the windows are covered by heavy, dark curtains. There are barely any candles. They pass a bird skull mounted on a wall, amongst several house-elf’s heads. And the cry of sorrow carries through the corridors in an unnerving way that has her reaching for her wand in her pocket.

“Right through here, if you please.”

Whatever is singing, or crying, is inside that room. It is clear once Euphemia holds the door open for her. She finds herself in a study. There are bookshelves lining two of the walls, and the portrait of a large, blond man over the fireplace. It doesn’t move, and that, too, is strangely haunting.

Delphini stops noticing the room around her when her eyes land on the large cage across from the door. It’s taller than she is by a good foot, and wide enough that two people could lay feet to feet across the bottom. The bird inside is large, made larger by the span of its wings when it spreads them, halting its song. It’s mostly black, but there are greenish undertones to the feathers, though the tail is thoroughly, deeply black. Its head seems bare, except for the elegant and long feathers of the crown, where the colour is brightest, but it is covered in black small feathers that fit slickly to the skull and then down the neck, where they grow longer and somewhat greener at the chest. She finds it oddly familiar.

_The bird skull in the corridor… My pendant!_

It’s a miniature, but she is quite certain that her necklace carries the skull of whatever bird this is.

 “It’s an Augurey. Beautiful, isn’t it? It started to sing the moment you came in.” Euphemia is smiling at her, warmly but expectantly, as if she is supposed to make some sort of connection.

“It’s what the prophecy told of. An Augurey. You. I never heard it, but your Mother told me so.”

Delphini’s brain goes into frenzy immediately, her heart fighting against her ribcage through it all. The prophecy refers to her as an omen bird of doom and disgrace. She can feel the path drifting away from under her feet. She steels herself once more, keeping her eyes on the unmoving portrait this time. It must be of Thorfinn’s. The day it moves, Euphemia will know her husband has passed.

She manages to put together a coherent sentence at last.

“My Mother told you of the prophecy?”

“Well, the Dark Lord wouldn’t address me personally. He only did so twice. I got my orders concerning you through your Mother. Don’t you see, Delphini, you were made for this. You alone can bring him back; you alone can make sure his plans come true. We’ll rule again because of you.”

Her voice has lost its smoothness, and the glint of fanaticism is back in her eyes, the one Delphini saw when she arrived. The bird starts to sing once more, high and mournful. This is all wrong, but she will not lose control this time. She will get what she has come for and figure it all at home, in the safety of her bedroom.

“When you said you were supposed to set things in motion, what is it that you have to do? Why did you wait until now? You must have known about where I was since that article in the _Prophet._ ”

Euphemia goes into a monologue about stars starting to align around her sixteenth birthday, and having to find her before it so that the rituals could be performed properly. Delphini is quite sure the witch is barely aware of her presence in the room. She is supposed to do her part by the autumn, it seems, when the Pleiades shine the brightest.

 _The Pleiades. Celaeno, the dark one,_ she remembers, _Delphini is as scam as much as Lestrange is!_

“Do you have the prophecy or not?” It comes out much sharper than she intended it to.

It does stops Euphemia. She moves to the desk in the corner, collecting a small, thin blade from a drawer.

“Don’t be scared, Delphini,” she is no longer Miss Black, apparently, “I just need some of your blood. I don’t know _exactly_ how this works, but the Dark Lord saw to its hiding place himself.”

Delphini pulls out her wand. They do not need a blade to draw blood. Euphemia stares at the pale wand with an odd reverence, but shakes her head.

“It must be done with this blade, it’s part of the ritual. It fits in a crevice here, do you see?” She points to one of the bookshelves while she moves closer to it. Lifting a wooden embellishment, she uncovers a slit just the width of the blade.

“Leave.”

“What?”

“Leave, Madam Rowle. You’ve told me what to do. I’ll do it. Alone. Out.”

Euphemia offers her the dagger by the handle, bowing as she does, and retreats, looking over her shoulder in equal parts adoration and terror. The bird quiets once more, as if it too were expecting something. Delphini does not know what comes next, but she knows that this concerns her and only her. Euphemia doesn’t have any information, she is simply the messenger.

Delphini takes the blade to the tip of her left ring finger, slicing it open, just enough to get blood all over the tip of the blade. Sucking on her finger for a second, she approaches the wood carving Euphemia lifted and slides the blade inside, all the way in. Nothing happens for a second, until she hears the sound of locks turning. It sounds a lot like the ones at Gringotts, a steady rhythm of pieces that come together and fall apart in sequence.

When it stops, the middle section of the bookshelf moves forward first, then up, to sit ahead of its upper counterparts. It exposes a nook. There is a deep blue velvet bag and a black cube, side by side, apparently of the same size. She reaches for the bag first. There’s a sphere inside of it, and she knows what she holds in her hands in that moment.

Her purpose. Her fate. Her oracle. She dares hope, despite it all, that she does not hold her future.

There is no seal to the bag, just a tied cord. Prophecies are known to drive people crazy if touched by the wrong hands, and that alone is guard enough. Delphini sets the heavy bag on the desk, keeping both her palms on the velvet, trying to sense any sort of magic through it. She looks back to the nook where the cube still sits. Reaching for it, her skin feels the magic irradiate from its shape long before she touches it. It’s not a simple cube, but a disguised box of some sort. Setting it next to the velvet pouch, she decides she will wait no longer.

Her attention is caught by a new sound. The bird is silent, but the day outside, so sunny when she got here, has turned grey and there’s light summer rain tapping against the large window of the study. She shakes her head, shaking off her apprehension. Until she listens to the prophecy, there is no way but forward. After, she will have her choice. She will know where to go from here to keep her family.

Pulling the dark, thick cord, she takes a moment to revel in its soft texture and on the rumbling it transmits to her fingers, as it slides over itself on the knot. The velvet slides off the crystal on its own, smoothly, like running water off polished stone. The sphere inside is a thing of beauty, made of light and swirls of blue, dark and deep but also bright and light, some so light they’re almost blindingly white. She forgets to breathe when she picks up on the darkest streaks, of a deep black that seems to engulf light.

She is not sure she wants to, but she must touch it. Her body acts of its own volition, all higher command forgotten. Her hands travel to each side of the crystal orb, her fingers spreading wide over the surface without touching it yet, the swirls inside dancing and spinning faster. It’s like holding a small planet of blue in one’s hands. Delphini picks it up, carefully, gently, utterly unaware of her surroundings. How can damnation be this beautiful?

Taking a step back, her lungs draw breath again. She can feel the magic rushing through her, from her hands to everywhere in her body. Her hair dances in a breeze that’s not there, her robes billow against her legs. Her skin is illuminated in eerie blue, and her eyes are red. The world climbs and climbs with her and then halts and it feels like running into a wall at full speed.

The sphere sings. An ancient, sacred song made words.

 

_Of a star and a serpent a child will be born_

_A creature of sorrowful song and sombre nature_

_The augurey of a new age_

_Born to raise the leader upon its dark wings_

_To a warrior and a ruler the child will be born_

_Darkness made flesh and omen made bones_

_To glory shall the augurey carry the one who leads_

_Laying waste to long held ways_

_Of the purest blood and the mightiest magic_

_In the warrior’s womb created under the spell-tongue of snakes_

_Rising from the ruler’s ranks to conquer all_

_A long fall will mark the ascension_

_Wings will spread wide and take flight_

_Ever the keeper of the Dark Lord’s coming_

_Always the beast they’ll try and slay_

_Feathers lost to a stronger hide_

_Watchful keepers shall guard the rising_

_But fall the songbird must_

_Only to rise again ever higher_

_A soaring dragon come to life_

 

The song plays again and again. Every sentence, every word, burning into her mind, engraving itself in her flesh. The skin of her back stings, almost as if it were trying to tear itself apart. The pain sears, sending jolts of vivid pain through her thoughts, one for each verse.

The words are slow to sink into her, but they do. The frenzy is back. It’s all so real, her path seems so definite, her purpose so final. With a piercing scream, she throws the sphere away from her, watching it move across the air, over the desk, on its inevitable fall. Delphini has to lean against the desk to keep from falling herself. She listens to the sound of crystal breaking from a faraway place, seeing it shatter and spread, tiny pieces sparkling on the floor, reflecting the reverberation of the raindrops. An enthralling play of light and sound.

The pain has changed. It’s no longer on her back but on her palms once more. She kneels next to the desk, still looking at the remnants of the orb, watching volutes of blue and smoke and white and wind rise and be lost to the world. She looks at the palms of her hands and finds them terribly burnt, blistering and oozing. The Augurey accompanies the dying song of the prophecy, for a first and final time, and she feels drops of water fall upon her bleeding hands. The words run and run in her head, slowing down everything else.

She is crying, sobbing. In pain and in despair. Staring at her hands, stupidly thinking of how on earth she is supposed to hold on tight to the button and go home, Delphini fears she is already down the wrong path.

A loud gasp comes from the door. She never thought of locking it in the first place. Madam Rowle is by her side the very same instant it seems. Time either moves painfully slow and nauseatingly fast, there’s no middle term. She is being spoken to, but all she can hear is the omen from the orb.

It’s dizzying. It’s so very dizzying and then it’s all nothing. All is dark. All is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got my hands on a functioning laptop and wrote too many words for chapter 46, which means this fic will not be closing at fifty chapters, as I was thinking, but more at fifty-five-ish. There’s lots of parallel plots to develop, so the timeline has slowed down quite a bite. I am packing these fic with foreshadowing bits, so I hope you have fun picking it apart.  
> Anyway, please, please, please tell me what you think of that stuff up there. I’ve been kicking the prophecy around for quite a while, because it is fundamental to my story, but I have to tell you that it was my first attempt at poetry in English, so sorry for anything.  
> Thank you very much to all the people that have followed and favorited and subscribed and kudoed. I can run on fumes in desperate times, but I’d much rather run on reviews. I will be deprived of a laptop again, but I’ll write away on my phone and edit when get a proper keyboard, promise.  
> Little mention here to the side piece published earlier: Not Fair, on my series of companion works. Follows the previous chapter right off the end.


	47. Like a Bird Through a Spider Web

_Rowle House, July 18 th, 2013_

She comes to in a soft bed. It smells musty, but the sheets are silken. She is not wearing her robes anymore, nor the simple dress she had on underneath.

"Don't move, Miss Black. I have tended to your hands, but I must take care of this burn on your back as well. I've never heard of injuries like these caused by globes of prophecy…"

Euphemia's voice is lost to mumbling then, about the damage a prophecy is capable of causing someone's mind and how she had never seen magical burns such as these. If only she knew just what sort of damage the orb inflicted her. Delphini sobs into her pillow, just once, as quietly as possible. She will not show weakness, not before a stranger whose intentions she is not sure of.

"I'm sorry it hurts, my precious Augurey, but the Murtlap Dittany wouldn't stick to your wounds at all. It just slid right off your skin."

"Don't call me that," she manages to order, biting into the pillow to keep from openly sobbing, "don't ever call me that."

The anger in her voice elicits some sort of knee-jerk reaction from the witch, and for a moment Madam Rowle seems to forget her previous deference, a mask of confusion descending upon her face.

"Why not? You are-"

"Because I've told you not to,” she keeps her voice steady, but the emotion in it is not restrained, “because I am not a damned bird and I am certainly not yours!"

She doesn't mean to, not really, but her magic is already alive around her, she can feel it sparkling just beneath her skin, ready to lash out, tearing at the wounds in her back, itching at the wounds in her hands. So can Euphemia.

"The prophecy has unsettled you, I see. Well, I'm done here for the moment, so I'll leave you to rest." Her voice is perfectly composed once more. And entirely subservient.

She is nervous, Delphini knows, her tone is guarded but there are no barriers to her mind, no safeguards. The thoughts of this witch are easily accessible, so she knows that Euphemia has done this before. She was the Healer the Death Eaters turned to during the war and she is no stranger to wild tempers flaring up under the rule of pain and injury.

"Don't bother checking up on me. I'll summon the house-elf if I need anything. Lapbey, isn't it?"

Madam Rowle nods a couple of times, closing lids and stoppers over dark coloured concoctions and ointments, before bowing to her and leaving. She nods, not realizing that she never mentioned the house-elf's name in Delphini's presence.

Her mind isn't just easy to access. It isn't used at all to being probed and pocked and picked apart at a _Legillimens'_ pleasure. Willing or not, Euphemia will be a source of knowledge about her parents. About what the wraiths that haunt her dreams now used to be when they had flesh and magic to them.

Delphini takes a deep breath as soon as the door closes, wincing at the pain it causes her. She bites down on the pillow once more, forcing her unyielding sobs down together with her magic. She cannot give into desperation, not now, not as long as her fate is at risk.

She looks to her bedside table, where her wand and the button sit next to the blue velvet bag, now clearly containing the strange black cube. Reaching for her wand is even more painful, but she wants to make sure Madam Rowle won't come inside unless bidden.

She feels full to the brim, there's simply too much nervous energy coursing through her. Her body can't stop, she feels like she is flying at full speed on her broomstick, over fields and Muggle villages, as she likes to do, when she knows without any shadow of a doubt that she'll die should she fall. She usually revels on the feeling, finding comfort in the aftermath, but this time it's different. She is not flying, but she feels like she's falling already.

She feels absolutely weightless on her long way down, plunging towards the unforgiving ground as some birds are known to do. There's a rush to this feeling, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, the tang of iron coating her tongue, her heartbeat at the back of her throat.

Would anyone care if she crashed into the earth and never rose again? Would the wraiths of her parents welcome her beyond the Veil? Would anyone miss her?

 _They would,_ her mind answers, _your family would. Teddy would._

All of them ties to keep her steady through the storm.

_Aunt Cissa, Uncle Lucius, Draco, Astoria, Scorpius, Teddy._

One by one, her mind enumerates all the people that would care, those who would miss her, a prayer that her lips let escape though there's no sound to it.

 _Siryanna, Sigmund, Freya, Radagast. Even Potter_ , she knows, in that utterly selfless way he has of caring about others. _Even Mrs. Weasley._

The rosary of names plays again and again in her mind. She keeps it playing until she can no longer hear the prophecy. She sleeps, for a little while, and she does not dream. Her mind is tethered, so it does not drift.

X

Delphini wakes up to the sun well on its way to disappearing beneath the horizon. Her time here is running out, her family will fret over her absence come the night. She must make haste. If they come, and they will, she has a feeling that Euphemia will not let them go unscathed.

She pushes her upper body off the mattress, regretting it immediately. It's not her back. Whatever burns she might have there are absolutely painless now. It's her hands. It's always her hands, singed by magic once more, as if she were being punished for it. Dropping back unto her pillow, she chooses to throw her legs over the edge of the bed and then sit up. Her back bothers her, but nothing like it did before. The chill in the room makes her skin crawl, a dozen frozen fingers running over her, sending shivers in all directions.

She is down to her nickers, she only now realizes. All of her clothes are carefully folded on a nearby chair. Robes, dress, stockings, brassiere, even the ribbon that held her curls off her face. Her black shoes carefully set by the side of the chair, somehow shinier than when she got here.

The door knob turns once, then twice more. But no attempt to open it with magic is made.

"Miss Black? Is everything alright?" sounds the voice of Euphemia from behind the door. "May I come in? Your wounds need tending to..."

Looking to the state of her hands, Delphini figures she doesn't have much of a choice. Her bandages have come off and the sight left behind is not pretty. There's blistering and bleeding and an unnerving redness to her palms. With a careless wave of her hand she unlocks the door, while reaching for the covers to hide her nudity. About that she does care. She is exposed like this, the picture of frailness. A pale young girl with a mane of tumbling curls and a red velvety, if musty and moth-bitten, quilt wrapped around her. She tucks her legs back up, next to her body, not quite covered, leaving two feet of porcelain on display.

"Come in, Madam Rowle," she makes sure to establish a hierarchy once more, "my hands do need tending to." She smiles that coy little smile of hers, the velvet glove over the iron fist.

The witch bows to her. When their eyes meet again, she catches the glimpse of a memory. Her Mother sitting just like this, terribly injured and yet demanding to know where her husband was, where her Master was, whether they had been injured or not. It's a fleeting thing, but it appeals to her. The ghost of her Mother is a powerful thing.

X

Euphemia can't remember ever feeling like this. This unsurmountable reverence, such overwhelming adoration. It's the lack of fear, she figures. You couldn't stand in the presence of either of her parents without being on edge, without the terror of doing the wrong thing or saying the wrong word, without that terror coursing through your veins, blood made ice and heart turned into a frantic bird fighting its cage.

She is not afraid now, not really, not like she was before when the prophecy shattered. This is the girl that was promised, to be raised in Darkness and to raise Darkness to its might. A promised girl to defeat the boy who lived. A Dark Lady to stand at the right hand of the Dark Lord returned.

She was given to the Malfoys to raise though, rather stolen actually, and they didn't raise her properly at all, that much is clear. Delphini knows nothing of the promise she holds, of why she came into this world, of the extent of her abilities. The Malfoys kept her from the truth.

She would have raised her right. She would know exactly what to do. She would have kept her out of Hogwarts and teach her right here, at home, under the song of the augurey in the study. She would have kept her apart from the world until she was ready. They would have all been blindsided when the Dark Lord returned with his perfectly groomed daughter by his side. In that world, Euphemia would have been rewarded beyond measure, she is sure.

She was never a warrior like Bellatrix, but she would have figured out a way to teach Delphini how to fight. This treasure of a girl before her is supposed to be a natural at it, a magical prodigy, all she would have to do was provide the right environment for her gifts to flourish. That was the deal. Sooner or later, the girl would have been entrusted to her, for her to raise. Euphemia would be the one to nurture this perfect flower to blooming in the night, like a rare orchid, and deliver her to the world, free to thrive.

Euphemia feels robbed of a future where all this darkness that she surrounds herself with would have a greater purpose. She wonders if she can still keep the girl now. It is not too late; there are still a couple of months to go. She could still be prepared by then. She wonders if Delphini will stay if she shows her the rooms made ready for her, the ones that have been expecting her for fifteen years. Maybe, deep down at her core, Delphini knows that there's a greater purpose to her. Maybe she knows that together is how they achieve it. Maybe, under the façade she puts on for the world to see, she yearns for what should have been as well.

Delphini moves ever so slightly on the bed and she has to blink repeatedly, pushing the daydreaming to the back of her mind, forcing her mind to focus in the young witch wrapped in red. Her breath escapes her. She is made of sharp contrasts, black hair over red velvet, setting off her green eyes and her impossibly pale complexion. She is made of absolutes, of colours with tight and sharp borders that do not mingle. Her parents were like that too, they would be proud.

"I require help with my hands, Madam Rowle," Delphini's voice breaks through the haze in her mind, "and I would like to put on my clothes when you're done." Two swift commands disguised as requests, but her authority all too clear to be denied.

"Of course, Miss Gaunt," she answers before she can help the slip of her tongue.

"Miss Black."

Short but with such an edge that she flinches where she stands. Bellatrix used to talk to her like this, a whip of a word to set her straight, preceding a lash of magic most times. Euphemia bows her head in apology, definitely out of her stupor now. She is not afraid, but she'd be stupid not to be careful.

She moves towards Delphini, adjusting the cart by the side of the bed, so that she can lay her hands on it. She does so with graceful, slow movements, keeping her eyes on her at all times, while Euphemia takes a seat on a low stool.

Euphemia sets to work then, quietly. Maybe her silence will lure Delphini, maybe that will prompt the questions she would so gladly answer. She removes the half-fallen bandages from her hands, careful not to cause any more pain than that absolutely necessary.

Delphini does not flinch and does not hiss. Delphini does not talk through any of it. She simply keeps her eyes on her. Euphemia has to blink and shake her head slightly to concentrate again.

"This will hurt," she says, matter-of-factly.

She places a bowl beneath Delphini’s hands and runs the back of them with cold water before taking a small vial with a deep blue liquid and dropping a few drops into every inch of broken skin. It sizzles in contact with the flesh, causing the wounds to bleed anew. Weathered duellers would move in discomfort at first, groan after that, some would scream and threat her. Delphini doesn't make a sound, though she can swear her toes are curled and her feet arched, despite the apparent lack of tension in her muscles. Bellatrix would be proud.

"Will you turn your hands, Miss Black?"

She does and Euphemia repeats the process on her palms. Again, she endures. Then, Euphemia takes a larger flask and applies a honey-like ointment with a silver spatula to the burns.

"This will help with the healing and make your hands numb," she warns her, "it will make the next part easier."

The next part is dressing her hands with gauze soaked in Murtlap Dittany and then wrap them in bandages charmed to keep dry, tight enough not to fall, loose enough not to constrict blood flow. The pressure on the wounds will build up, though, and the numbness will give way to pain once more.

"These pebble-like nuts," she says, opening a small box and offering Delphini its contents, "will help you with the pain. If you chew one twice a day there should be none. You may have a third one if necessary, without any side effects. More than three will make you sleep."

"Thank you," Delphini says, using only two fingers to take one from the box to her mouth, with a small smile on her lips. There is nothing nice about that smile. It’s a mere courtesy of someone brought up in high society, but there is a charm to it.

Lord Voldemort would be proud. He, too, had a way to reach for things with the bare minimum of touches. He, too, had a way about people that had nothing to do with being nice. He was always terrifying, but he was charming. He lured witches and wizards as moths to flame, scorching their wings just enough to keep them useful.

Euphemia stands then, closing the box lid. She moves on from Delphini's hands to her back, keeping the lightest of touches on the girl's shoulder as she leans to assess the damage there, before she asks that she lies down. She gasps when she finds none.

The blistering, oozing wounds that refused to be dressed are nowhere to be seen. She can't help but take a step back and look for the girl's eyes and in that moment she knows she is lost.

She sees the bone white wand emerge from the red folds that envelop the girl's body and for a second she remembers, oh so clearly, what being terrified to the brink of sanity feels like.

X

" _Somnum_ ," Delphini says, pointing her bony wand at Euphemia's forehead. She has been inside the witch’s mind for a while now, appreciating her thoughts from a safe distance, without truly invading her mind. She was in there when she saw her back free of any wound, burn or bruise that the prophecy had left her with.

But now Euphemia is out, crumbled on the floor, and Delphini is alone in her own mind, looking at an unconscious witch, which is of absolutely no use to her. She puts together a plan quickly, shoving thoughts and ideas into neat boxes in her mind, filed away for later inspection. Now, she acts.

“ _Renervate. Confundus_ ,” she orders her magic forward, steadily and surely, for messing with minds is never easy and always dangerous, “Madam Rowle, you will forget the injuries on my back. The prophecy burned my hands, nothing else. You will help me dress now, and then pack everything I might need to take care of my wounds.”

She watches as Euphemia blinks out of her haze, hoping she won’t have to cast another spell to make her comply. She won’t be able to go through her memories today, not after jumbling her mind like this. She is no longer absolutely sure that she wants to, not after the prophecy and the small snippets she saw of her parents, but knowing is better than being ignorant. She won’t do it today, so she files that away.

She gets dressed in the least clumsy way possible, considering the state of her hands and Euphemia’s fearful help. Then, she observes as Euphemia collects vials, jars and bottles, setting them all aside in an immaculate little stock before she Conjures a satchel where to pack them, together with the small box of nuts.

“Thank you, Madam Rowle,” she is not giving her the remotest chance of taking the lead in this conversation, “I’ll get going now. _I_ will come to you again, when and if I deem it so, _not_ the other way around. I will not be seen with you publicly, ever again. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Miss Black.” There’s a slight hesitation, and Delphini knows, even without looking into her mind, that Euphemia was about to call her Miss Gaunt yet again. Her Father’s ghost is a terrible thing, but she will use it for now.

Euphemia offers to carry the satchel to the door, but Delphini declines, sliding one of her arms and her head through the strap, letting it sit on her shoulder.

“Show me outside, Madam Rowle,” she orders, picking up the velvet bag with the box in it and cradling it against her chest.

The witch does so without another word. And although Delphini dares not look into her mind, she can’t reign in her curiosity, so she listens to the clear thoughts irradiating from Euphemia’s mind. Even if they only serve to mud her own thoughts.

“Good evening, Madam Rowle, thank you for having me.” She will remember her manners until she is out of sight. She will not lose control. She will not let her façade shatter, not here, not without her family.

“I hope to see you again, Miss Black,” Euphemia says, by means of farewell, when she holds the door open for her. The glare that Delphini shoots her at that is so positively murderous that the witch takes several steps back, holding her hands tight, at a loss for words.

“I will contact you again if I deem it so, _not_ the other way around,” she tells her once more, letting her eyes turn a dangerous shade of red, which makes Euphemia grow even paler, “and I will make you regret any and all attempts to reach me, as well as any mention of my presence here and the events you witnessed.”

Euphemia nods frantically, bowing her head, avoiding her eyes at all costs. Delphini would feel much better if she simply Obliviated her, but she has jostled her mind enough for today. She needs it sound for later reaping. So she walks out the door without further ado, walking past the limits of the sorrowful little garden without as much as a look over her shoulder.

X

Delphini stands alone in the meadow at the bottom of the hill, haphazardly hidden from view by the dancing of the tall grass, watching the day fade away as the sun plunges beyond the horizon. She lets a couple of tears escape her eyes. She has tried using the button to go home, but the bandages between it and her skin keep it from working. So she waits, for she knows that they will come for her, sooner or later.

She waits holding the box against her chest, both cherishing and fearing the familiar feel of its magic. It is clear, even through the velvet that shrouds it. It’s the same as the veil over her bed, the same as the door to her rooms, the same as the case that held her necklace. Her parents have been dead for fifteen years now but somehow their magic endured. His magic endured, she suspects. It shouldn’t, every law of magic sustains that once a wizard is dead so is the magic, but leave it to Lord Voldemort to push the boundaries of what magic can and cannot do. She cherishes its familiarity, because it soothes, never failed to do so. But she fears the intention behind it.

The thought of what sort of magic could live beyond the one who cast it is daunting. The thought of what may be inside it makes her skin crawl. The prophecy held her future. The box must hold her path to it. Instructions to bring her dead Father from beyond the Veil. And if knowing is better than being ignorant, then opening this box is a necessity. She must know, for only then can she discern what to avoid, how to keep clear of the path to doom, how to keep her family safe.

_A creature of sorrowful song and sombre nature_

_The augurey of a new age_

_Born to raise the leader upon its dark wings_

She is supposed to be the beginning of something new, but all she feels is final. She is the last Black, the last Gaunt. The last Lestrange too, in a way. She is also the last Riddle, loathe it as her father might have had. Once she leaves this existence, there will be nothing left of them, and maybe that’s for the better.

She both craves opening the box and throwing it away, to the bottom of the ocean to be forgotten. She both wants to know what’s inside and run from it. Curiosity is a terrible thing. Curiosity drove her to use the Stone, curiosity drove her to Rowle House. Curiosity keeps driving her to dark and darker places, but isn’t that what she was always meant to do? Meant to be? _Darkness made flesh and omen made bones_ , the prophecy said.

She feels like Pandora with this box of hers and the evil it may contain. Is that the omen in the augurey’s song? Is that her curse? Unleashing it all back on the world?

X

Narcissa steadies herself at the top of the hill, listening for any sounds that might help her. She hears nothing but two small cracks. Her husband and her son. They are all doomed if their presence here is noticed. Euphemia will fight them and they will fight back, to the very last consequences. It's Delphini they're fighting for. Dying is the smallest price they could pay if that means keeping her safe from her own dead parents and the darkness that always clung to their skin.

In the dying light of day, they see her down below. Very still, standing amidst the tall yellowing grass, no movement to her shape but that of the wind in her hair and her robes.

Draco runs before anyone can stop him. The rustle of his robes and the crushing of his soles draws Delphini's attention to the hill and the silhouette turns to look at them. Narcissa takes her first breath since she landed. Lucius wraps one arm round her waist and rushes with her to where Draco already is.

"I couldn't get the button to work," she says when they approach her, "but I knew you would come for me. I didn't mean to upset you."

 _I knew you would come for me._ Narcissa knows then that whatever damage Euphemia may have done can be fixed. Her wings can be mended.

She keeps very still, holding a box of some sort close to her body, and there's a linen satchel hanging at her hip, the strap visible across her chest. And even though she stands straight and apparently unburdened by them, Narcissa can tell that there’s a greater weight to her niece. A shadow to her eyes, obscuring the usual glint.

But then they see her hands, or the tips of her fingers emerging from bulging bandages. Narcissa has to hold her husband’s arm to keep him by her side. He takes his cue from her and settles down, providing the calm that Delphini seems to crave right now.

"What happened?" Draco asks, looking towards the house, more than ready to barge inside and leave nothing standing. "Are you alright, Delphini?"

"I hurt my hands, that’s why I couldn't close them around the button, but I'm fine," she answers, leaning into Lucius waiting arms.

"Little bird, was it her?"

"No, Aunt Cissa, she took care of my hands," she replies, showing them one hand carefully wrapped while holding on to the box with the other, "can’t we just go home?"

Lucius nods to her then, whispering into Delphini's curls for her to hold on and turning right with a sharp movement. Narcissa watches Draco do the same and then leaves as well. The void and the darkness pinch and pull at her body. For a second, there is a barrier, the wards of the Manor, and then her eyes open and they are all in the entrance hall.

Delphini is still holding on to Lucius, her shoulders shaking rhythmically, while he pets her back and her shoulders.

"How about we put those things down, hmm?" He asks her, kissing the crown of her head, having to bend his neck just a little, now that she has grown so tall. She nods in reply, making a couple of tears fall off her face to leave darker stains on her robes and dress.

"You can talk to us, little bird," Narcissa tells her niece, taking the velvet bag and the satchel from her, "you're safe now."

"No, I can't. It's too dangerous for you."

"Oh come here you," Draco says, pulling her from his Father and holding her tight in his own arms, "of course you can. You can't keep it all hidden inside of you, Delphie. Let's go sit down."

Narcissa chooses to leave the bag and the satchel behind, and then follows her family into the sitting room. Draco takes a seat on the sofa and Delphini bundles up by his side, against his ribs and under his arm, making her shape as small as possible.

"Where's Scorpius? And Astoria?"

"Out. Astoria took Scorpius to the Avery's for a playdate, to keep him busy. It has turned to dinner and a sleepover. She should be back soon."

"Good, I don't want Scorpius to see me like this."

They give her time to talk, but she keeps things vague. She did find the prophecy at Euphemia's, she tells them, and it has been destroyed. Her magic reacted to it and that is how her hands got injured, the satchel has everything needed to dress her wounds. She does not tell them of the box inside the velvet bag. She does not tell them of the prophecy exactly. Narcissa knows not to push her.

Delphini has crashed through the last layer of their lies today and she is injured in more ways than one. The little bird flew through the spider web and her wings got tangled and twisted, but their world has not collapsed.

Narcissa knows just what she needs when Delphini falls silent once more. There will be no more words tonight.

"I’m taking you upstairs. A bath, a warm meal, and a bed. I'll have Narkey prepare them for you."

"I'll take that," Delphini says, her eyes lost in the arabesques of the carpet at her feet, "if you’ll help me with my hands." She hesitates for a moment, before turning her bloodshot eyes up to hers. "Will you brush my hair please?"

Narcissa answers by getting up and extending her hands.

X

Delphini sits at her vanity, smelling of rose scented soap, examining her newly dressed hands. The pain is a dull thing at the back of her mind, small enough for her to handle a cup of tea with both hands. Aunt Narcissa dosed it with a calming potion before offering it to her, hoping to make her night easier.

She knows that there is a pair of grey eyes searching for hers in the mirror, offering her that exclusive form of comfort only the two of them share. But she will surely turn into a mess of tears and sobs if she meets them. Narcissa's hands on her hair and the careful running of the brush through her curls are all the comfort that she can take right now.

"Would you like me to braid it for the night, little bird?"

She flinches slightly at that, but manages to hide it well enough. She nods, buying herself some more time while she reaches into the right side drawer to pick a ribbon.

 _Little bird_. Her aunt has called her little bird her entire life, so has Draco. Uncle Lucius has called her sweet star of darkness for years. It all adds up. She has always cherished the nicknames, the spoken proof of their affection. Until now.

"Why do you call me little bird?" She asks, finally meeting the grey stare in the mirror.

She notices how Aunt Narcissa's expression changes. How she schools her features, how she ponders her words.

"It was something your Mother called you, on your very first night. It stuck."

There's a little smile to the answer, a fondness for the memory it alludes to, Delphini can feel it irradiate off her mind. And no lie to it. No half-truth.

They become silent once more, as Delphini finishes her tea and Narcissa ties the braid with the blue ribbon set aside. She feels her Aunt's hands on her shoulders then, pulling her closer so that she can talk to her, whispering words just by her left ear, while steel and emerald meet at the mirror.

"Your fate is not set in stone. You are much more than a prophesised child, you were wanted well beyond it, and you were and are loved for being you. Just you. You are what you choose to be, Delphini, and we will always, _always_ , love you."

Delphini lets a couple of tears stream down her face, incapable of stopping them, but her Aunt's thumbs keep them from falling to her dressing gown. Her mind feels fuzzy and she decides that she needs to sleep some of the sadness off, for her mind will be sharper without it. For she will crumble to nothing but a pool of tears disturbed by sobs and that won’t do her any good. She must keep her wits about this if she is to succeed, she needs a sound mind to cross these woods.

She climbs into her bed and allows herself the little joy of being tucked to sleep as if she were little again. Aunt Narcissa stays with her until she falls asleep, hoping against all hope that she won't dream. Her mind gives in to slumber while repeating the prayer of names, so that it doesn’t wander back to the prophecy.

But it does nonetheless, and she does dream. Despite the tethers on her mind, her brain conjures memories and builds up scenarios, and she soon feels like a little boat adrift amidst a storm. She dreams of the prophecy and of the way the voices were distorted when it shattered. She dreams of turning on herself, and it is terrible. The image of a version of her letting her wand drop to the ground, letting her knees give under her weight and just stay there, still, her curls over her face, waiting for a final blow. She dreams of finding her Father in the study and being punished for failing. She dreams of her family lying dead on the floor of the Manor, downstairs in the piano room.

Delphini wakes up screaming and sobbing in Aunt Narcissa's arms. Uncle Lucius runs inside, forgetting to knock and leaving doors ajar. He brings her Dreamless Sleep, and allows her exactly no argument when she shakes her head at first.

“I didn’t keep you in this house, with me, to see you be driven mad by night terrors. I won’t have it, and I won’t let you do it, Delphini. I won’t have this happen again.”

It’s harsh, it’s so very harsh. Uncle Lucius speaks as if his words were blades, but they reach her and she understands. The ghost of her Mother is a powerful thing.

So she takes the spoonful of Dreamless Sleep and buries her body into the comfort of her bed and of the presence of her family.

And only then is she at rest.

X

Narcissa sighs once she leaves the room where her niece sleeps, leaning into her husband. Delphini has barely scratched the surface of Lord Voldemort's plans for her. Plenty is still amiss, she knows. Some of it, she suspects, she dares hope, they'll never know of. She will never know of. The only other person he might have confided in is as dead as he is. Still, she dwells on Delphini's question, and she remembers.

She remembers the summer night in which she was born, just as the day died on the horizon, and holding her close to her heart, heavy and warm on her arms, after Lord Voldemort had left, when the stars were bright against the dark skies. There was no moon that night, just starlight.

_Bella had finally started to cave into exhaustion, but she couldn't stop staring at the pretty child in her arms. Narcissa found herself being disturbed by the voice of her sister for very different reasons. She was cooing, she was humming a lullaby. None of that baby talk that drove shivers down everyone’s backs. A soothing, steady, absolutely sane voice, a loving tone she had never heard._

_Remembering how tired she had felt after Draco's birth, she offered to take the baby and lull her to sleep so that Bella could rest. She had fought her at first, wanting to keep her close, refusing to give up her daughter, even to the arms of her sister._

_“My little augurey, my precious little bird,” she kept whispering to the bundle in her arms, wrapped in the pearl blanket, while she coursed her fingers over Delphini’s features, committing them to memory._

_Bella conceded in the end, worried that she might fall asleep and somehow hurt her daughter. She extended the soft bundle to Narcissa, who sat by the bed, caressing the solitary black curly lock of hair that adorned her sleeping niece’s forehead, wondering if there was a way to keep her safe. Watching the shadows that the starlight drew on the impossibly pale skin, as pale as that of the little girl she had once held in her arms for a fleeting hour, as pale as Draco had been._

_“She is a lovely little bird, Bella, your daughter is beautiful.”Narcissa had told Bella then, shying from calling her precious. This baby girl could not be seen as a possession from day one, not by her own mother. “But she needs time to be a little bird before she becomes an augurey.”_

_“My very precious little bird”, Bella had said, right before she fell asleep, and always referred to her so from then on. To Narcissa she became little bird. Just little bird._

_Ever since her sister’s confession about the meaning behind the necklace, she had vowed to protect the child, then unborn, even from her parents. She had sided with them for the sake of family, because it was easier to keep her husband and her son safe, because harbouring the Dark Lord in her own house meant being better informed, because if the Dark Lord was there so was Bella._

_That night, Narcissa had vowed to keep the little bird safe as well._

_Tonight, she wonders if she has._

X

Granger-Weasley House, July 21st 2013

_"I need to see you at your earliest convenience. I'll meet you, just tell me where._

_Delphini"_

The short note tied to the foot of the dark, stately-looking owl is burning into her mind, while Hermione dwells on it. Concise and straight to the point, without letting her in on anything at the same time. Simple, but admirably composed and well-thought of. Not a ruse _per se_ , there is no malicious intention in it, but something definitively constructed to make her act. To leave her at ease, even, letting her decide on the where and when, without budging on the matter of the actual meeting.

_The cunning creature,_ _she thinks, reflecting on just how much of a Slytherin the girl has grown to be._ _Of Black blood and raised by Malfoys, she probably had little chance at becoming anything else._ _She immediately shakes her head at the preposterous thought. Hermione Granger, of all people, judging a girl for her blood._

Her position as Head of Department means this is a matter to be handled with great care and plenty of thought.

They can't be seen together out in the open. That will simply not do. She is not Harry, who makes sure to be seen with Delphini often, shielding her with his presence, in a way. They have agreed on the message to be sent, but not quite on the ways to do it.

Having her come to her office at the Ministry means making this Ministry business from the start, and she has a feeling neither of them want it to be so. Not to mention the _Prophet_ and every other newspaper would be all over it the second Delphini came through one of the fireplaces in the lobby.

Malfoy Manor isn't an option, not really. She feels too exposed inside those walls, the memories they hold make it hard for her to think clearly. She has to force her hand off the scar that she finds herself pressing against, as if the pain were all anew. She dares not pull the sleeve and actually look at it. Delphini and its author look too much alike for her to go through with this meeting if she does.

Her own home is out of the question. She can't even fathom what Ron might do. He won't admit it, but fear of what Delphini's future might be is probably the main reason he left the Aurors. Ron has a way to see the game far beyond the current board, to watch it unfold in his mind. He knows the possibility of Delphini turning dark and going rogue exists, and he sees a way for it to come true, so he has changed his strategy. He has absolutely no desire to be forced by duty to stand between her and the ones he loves, so he removed himself from the game altogether.

_Harry is seen with her all the time though..._

Hermione dismisses the dark owl Delphini has sent her. She doesn't have an answer yet. The large bird seems offended by her lack of it, but spreads its wings anyway, plunging into the air from her window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Sorry it has taken me so long, but I now find myself in possession of a working laptop and with plenty of free time, so I plan to get a fair amount of editing and writing done. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, I’m already well into 48, so any and all reviews will be put to powering my writing ;)  
> I know this one doesn’t really move things forward, but I needed to flesh this out. Plus it includes some Malfoy fluffiness and I can’t keep myself off it. It’s so bad that there’s a little Drastoria for you on chapter 48 as well. Things will pick up on the next one, I promise. Also, little tease, what was at the bottom of Pandora’s box? How does it relate to what’s coming? Is she ever opening it? What happened to her back?  
> She seems to get her hands hurt an awful lot, though. I think I’m projecting a bit (I injured my hands quite badly when I was eight). Just let me know if you find the descriptions icky enough to deserve a gore warning or something. I honestly don’t know what the threshold for most warnings is.  
> What else? Well, I’m also back to my forum activities, so if you’d like little snippets of Birds Become Dragons on the side, feel free to send them this way, I’ll probably find a prompt to go with them.   
> I am in need of inspiration for a little something coming ahead, so spoiler alert maybe? I need suggestions for possible Triwizard Tournament tasks. I just need to get brainstorming, but I need a little push and you guys usually provide me with great ideas.


	48. Letters from the Past

_Malfoy Manor, July 28 th 2013_

It’s her sixteenth birthday but she does not feel like celebrating. Not at all. There will be a small gathering at the Manor tonight, mostly friends from Hogwarts and their parents. She is not sure that Auror Potter is coming. She secretly hopes so, for it has been a week since she sent her little note and no answer has been delivered yet.

These past ten days have been tough on her. The prophecy runs and runs through her mind, and she takes to the skies at night, long after the manor is silent in slumber. She flies about, with no clear sense of where she’s going, barely noticing what’s below her broomstick. The prophecy mentioned something about falling, and, Merlin, she has felt nothing but the absence of ground beneath her feet. She finds herself daydreaming about Hogwarts, because there she has a secret room all of her own where she can wreak havoc and no one will be the wiser. There she has a ghost she can talk to and not worry about him dying. There, she has people to distract her, instead of having to distract her little cousin from his mother’s illness.

But it is also where the Stone is, abandoned on the floor.

It’s been ten days, and she still hasn’t approached the box. It remains undisturbed, hidden from sight in her rooms. But not quiet. The thing hums now, as if calling her. It sings a low hum whenever she is near. It sings when she returns from flying, and she finds Uncle Lucius sitting quietly by her bed, making sure that she sleeps for at least some hours, casting silencing spells over her bed. Both not daring to cast spells on the strange cube.

But in her sleep live all of her terrors, vivid and haunting, clawing at her mind.

For ten days, her family has surrounded her with care, trying their best to soothe her even if she won’t tell them what really happened between her and Euphemia. Three days ago, she tried talking them into taking her back to Rowle House. She failed. She is secretly glad that she did. Secretly glad not to face her would-have-been-tutor and her talk of a greater purpose and a better future. Secretly glad that she does not have to see for herself the rooms that were so clear in the witch’s mind, the ones that await her still, fifteen years past the battle. Fifteen years past the chance of a different future, which she does not think better at all.

But there is a prophecy in the way of her happiness, like a sword looming over her, ready to plunge downwards and destroy her world.

For ten days, she has spent her time on a broomstick with Scorpius or in the library, buried in an ever growing pile of books and parchment, managing to lose a quill or two in the mess, determined to keep her mind busy with schoolwork. If she is writing about the uses of dragon scales and dragon blood, her mind won’t drift to the prophecy once more. Though at the end, she always finds herself studying omens and prophecies, and ways to protect her mind even when she’s inside another. In shielding her mind with great voids, and mazes, and vast seas that reflect nothing but the night sky above them, she finds the surest way to keep her mind clear from the prophecy.

But her mind is a stubborn thing these days.

Lost in it, feeling only the cold scales of her familiar winding about her arms and chest, she spends the early hours of the morning sitting by a tall window, a silhouette against the rising sun, recalling her dreams. Maybe there’s an answer in there, amongst the mists that shroud them these days. Not much is clear anymore, except for the terrifyingly vivid dreams where her parents are back from the dead and her family is left bleeding on the floor. Even that one dream from so long ago where she fights herself is enveloped in clouds she cannot disperse. All she can remember is a head bowing in defeat, and the noise of a wand clattering on the floor.

Scorpius is the one to snap her to rights this morning, barging inside like only he will, running towards her, screaming “Happy Birthday” at the top of his lungs, utterly forgotten of his indoor voice and his indoor feet. He is nearly ten, and very vocal about no longer being a little boy, but certain things between them will never change. Guivre scurries off her quickly, disturbed by her cousin but knowing far better than to hiss in complaint.

“I have a gift for you,” he tells her, with a smile so wide she wonders if his cheeks hurt, “I think you’ll like it. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, where is it?” She asks him, with a true smile to her lips.

“Downstairs, in the sunroom. I was told to come fetch you for breakfast,” he replies, puffing up and standing straighter.

“Not in our pyjamas, surely…”

“No, that’s Christmas, not birthdays, which makes us both late.” He is already halfway across her bedroom by the time he finishes his sentence, fighting one of his slippers as he trips over her Kneazle.

Delphini moves to her bathroom to take a quick shower. She comes out wrapped in a pristine white towel, summoning clothes from drawers and closets while she releases her hair from the braid she sleeps in. Vicious is sitting atop her bed, curiously watching over her, while Guivre is back up on the chair by the window. Darkie has given up her quarters altogether, too old to be pestered by fangs and claws, preferring Uncle Lucius’ study.

Avoiding black and green for now, she is clad in an ochre dress, free flowing around her long legs, a demure V-line opening up to her shoulders, displaying her delicate collarbones, frail and light looking, as those of a bird. She walks downstairs with no spring to her step. Instead, there’s a solemnity to her movements, a certain majesty to her gestures. A habit she has fallen into naturally, a way to pace her body and slow down her mind in doing so. Something she has picked up from Aunt Narcissa, in an effort not to be so much like her Mother.

X

A stubborn knocking on the window interrupts their breakfast. Delphini puts down her toast, sucking the honey off her thumb, picks a strawberry from her bowl, and walks up to the heavy bird perched on the windowsill. She retrieves a package from its claws, offering the strawberry to the owl.

“Another gift then? You would think they could wait for tonight,” her Uncle jests, “or is it from Teddy?”

“No, it’s not from Teddy,” she says, setting the parcel down on the table, by the side of the books and the beautifully ornate wand holster that she received from her family, “it’s from Borgin and Burkes.”

That drives all five sets of eyebrows up. Old habits die hard, and families of a certain status remain frequent clients of Borgin and Burkes, but no one uses their delivery services anymore.

“There’s a note,” she says, pulling a small piece of paper from the folds of the parcel, “they didn’t dare _not_ sending it, apparently. They were instructed to do so. It sounds a lot like they were compelled to.”

Without thinking, her hands are already flying over the parcel, guided by her curiosity, tugging the yarn off and unwrapping the thick brown paper that protects it. There are a case and a letter inside. The case is made of red leather, polished to a jewel-like shine, and there’s something about it that makes Delphini feel safe. She shouldn’t, not around a leather case sent by a stranger, but her instincts tell her not to fear it, there’s a comfort in the colour and her mind is too busy wondering about the origin of such a gift to make the connection.

She picks up the letter first, turning it over with her long fingers, trying to discern where it might come from. There is nothing written on the envelope. Wondering if Euphemia would do something so brazen, her thumb catches a corner and there’s a brief but acute pain as she cuts her finger. The blood stains the corner, though only for a second, before it’s absorbed.  On the front of the envelope, there are now words that she has seen before. In an elegant hand and in a deeply black ink, that shines in the light with greenish undertones, like the feathers of the augurey.

_“To my daughter and heiress, Delphini”_

The writing on the envelope is all too familiar. Lord Voldemort's. She drops the letter and sets her hands on the table, too flustered to even consider sitting down. There are all sorts of wild scenarios running through her mind, each deadlier than the last.

Her Father’s eyes. Those eyes were of that deep bright red that covers the case, and she found comfort in it. She still finds comfort in him, despite all that she stands to lose. She takes a moment to collect herself, pushing both case and letter away from her on the table, almost barking an order at Narkey to take it all to her rooms. Her family is stunned into silence.

"Little bird, do you want us to warn Auror Potter? He can come and check the case for you." Her Aunt is right beside her, with a caring hand on her back. They both know none of the Malfoys would dare approach the thing, nor would she let them.

"No, don’t worry, it's fine. It feels familiar, like the door and the veil," and the box she thinks, but dares not say, "I'm sure there's nothing wrong with it. I just don't want to open it now, not yet."

Her Aunt nods in agreement, tucking a stray curl back behind her ear, caressing her cheek as she goes.

"Well, there’s a party to prepare for. Would you like to make sure everything is to your liking outside?"

Delphini smiles openly, a rare thing these days. She adores Aunt Cissa's way of making things right effortlessly. She dares wish for some of that natural diplomacy herself, right before she remembers that she is not a prim and proper flower. She's an omen, a dark one.

X

Her family’s last gift to her is a beautiful gown. It is deeply blue, shimmering in the light, like the high seas under starlight. It clings to her shape from her shoulders to her waist, far more form fitting than anything she has been allowed to use before. The skirt billows beautifully, waving with the slenderest of movements, dragging a short tail behind her, muffling the click of her heels. Sensible dancing shoes that shine black with her steps, playing hide and seek under the waves of blue, a small gem on the straps that hold them to her ankles.

Delphini stands before the mirror, making sure everything is as it should. She keeps turning to examine her back. Her hair is slightly up and pulled to the side, over her right shoulder, so that the intricate lacy design of the back of the gown is exposed. It also exposes the top of her back, to the lower end of her shoulder blades. There is no trace of the burns she saw in Euphemia’s mind but for two slim parallel lines, very faint against her skin, midway between her shoulders and her spine. Aunt Narcissa helped her wash while her hands were healing and she never mentioned them, so maybe no one can see the faint little scars against her pale skin.

She decides to wear lace gloves to hide her hands, which have healed enough to forsake the dressings, but are still riddled with pale and pink and reddish lines. For safe measure, she uses her oldest gift to conceal them and watches as her magic works over the maimed skin, hiding all the slashes and crusts without actually healing any of them. She can use her magic to hide away her true skin, maybe she can use it to hide from her fate as well.

She cannot use her magic to push aside the sight of a letter and a red leather case, though, or that of a box hidden in blue velvet, but she can use her mind to build walls around them. Just for tonight, she will lock those thoughts away, behind mazes surrounded by vast seas of nothingness.

In the golden light of Malfoy Manor gardens, she celebrates another birthday, surrounded by friends and family, wondering if it will be the last. Teddy senses her unease, having a far better knowledge of her soul than either of them admits. He is the one to suggest some sort of shenanigan to brighten up her spirits. She laughs, telling him that they can’t go fly about on furniture in her home, but Sigmund is quick to point out that they could fly about on brooms, and from that to an impromptu Quidditch match in the dark using the old brooms stacked away in a closet is but the time to spread the word.

By the time the match is over, her hairdo is starting to fall apart, with random curls dropping to her shoulders here and there, but she feels light. Light as she has not felt in a long while, laughing while she picks twigs out of Teddy’s hair and listens to Freya complain about the snagged threads in her silken skirts.

Uncle Lucius toasts to her, with that proud smile so rarely seen. The small crowd raises their glasses and calls her name, and Delphini forgets to worry. She allows herself the liberty to live in the moment and throw her cares to the wind. With promises of good behaviour and plenty of impish winks, her friends are left behind, to depart later through the Floo Network, while the adults retreat. Her family goes inside, giving the youth the run of the gardens, and there’s dancing, and laughing, and chasing peacocks for the sake of it. Someone says that they should watch the sunrise, because it’s not a proper party if they don’t stay up to ungodly hours, and they do. Sitting and sprawling on the lawn, bare feet on the grass, with glasses and tumblers of beverages that they are not quite allowed yet, they watch the sun rise over the horizon. Waking up those that have fallen asleep, they walk inside, failing miserably in their mission to be quiet about it, disappearing in the green flames, while Delphini makes sure that everyone pronounces their addresses correctly, lest they end up in a stranger’s living room.

She carries her shoes with one hand, holding her skirt slightly up with the other, while she sprints upstairs, rushing to her rooms. She throws herself onto the bed, not caring one bit that she is still dressed, or that her shoes are on the covers, or that her wand has clearly rolled off the mattress, or that her hair is still riddled with pins. She hugs her pillow, lets Guivre slither around her body for warmth, and falls asleep to the whoosh of the veil closing over her.

X

She wakes up well past noon on the following day. The first thing she sees is the red leather case on her bedside table. She takes a second to ponder her decision, then kneels on the covers and reaches for it. The veil opens to make way and closes promptly once she pulls the case close. She summons her wand from the floor, and proceeds to inspect her birthday gift.

Her Father made sure that she would get this case for her sixteenth birthday, and he did not trust the Malfoys with it. There are too many questions running through her mind. Did he know, in those final days, that they would not raise her to his expectations? Did he know that Euphemia would never get her hands on his daughter? Did he think that his plans could go wrong? Why didn’t he leave this in the Lestrange vault like he had left the necklace? Would Potter have kept this case from staying, but not the other? There is only one way to answer them, and she decides to face it, taking a large breath.

The lock is the same. Two snakes intertwined that move as she touches them with both thumbs. Again, the box is charmed to open with her touch, and the sort of magic involved makes her skin crawl. Magic is supposed to die with the wizard that casted it. How on earth all these things that surround her kept their jinxes and curses and charms when her parents have been dead for over fifteen years never ceases to amaze her. It never fails to also be one of her most daunting thoughts, because if their magic lingered in these small things, then there may be something much worse still waiting somewhere.

Inside the case lies a beautiful hair comb, with half a dozen long teeth. It is a delicate, intricate work of goblin spun silver and onyx and precious gems. From a distance, it will look like a perfectly innocent embellishment, one that looks to be made of flowing tiny ribbons somehow committed to sit still atop a neat bun or at the root of a wide braid, with gems wedged in between. Up close, so close that one would have to breathe on her neck to see it, there are some two dozen serpents, some sculpted in silver, others in onyx. Wedged in between them lie small emeralds, shining in a proud, deep green, like that of her eyes. The gems are not randomly placed though. Delphini would recognize their disposition anywhere.

The Pleaides. All nine stars. The seven sisters and their parents. For each an emerald, except for her namesake. Celaeno was not given an emerald but an eerily dark diamond, slightly larger than the other gems, that shines in a greenish hue when turned to the light. And it is not encased in serpents like the others; instead it sits at the union at two small wings of onyx.

The wings of the Augurey supporting the Dark One of the Pleiades.

The meaning behind it is clear. Her Father’s expectations of her are too. Now that she knows Lord Voldemort to be her true sire, the significance of being named after the one of the seven sisters is not lost on her.

His mother was Merope, the lost Pleiad. His daughter is Celaeno, the dark Pleiad.

There is another part to this gift. One that she must open now. She summons the letter wandlessly, observing it fly under the veil and then to her outreached palm.

The writing is uneven. Sometimes the composed lettering of the envelope, others almost a frantic scribble. Lord Voldemort last words to her, or so she hopes, reveal something of his nature, show just how unhinged he had become in the days before the Battle.

_‘You were named after the keeper of the oracle and after the darkest of Pleiades… you have a purpose… you shall become a great witch, Delphini, and you will rule by my side, once you’ve fulfilled the prophecy… I will guide you down your path to greatness, for it leads to mine as well…’_

She skims over the page, hoping against all hope that there’s more to this letter than a strange manifesto of her Father’s movement, more than an appeal to fulfil the prophecy and bring him back. He promises her greatness, time and time again, giving her instructions to the place _‘where it all started’_ , where his true plans for her lie.

Apparently, her Father was desperate enough to have a contingency plan of sorts. Whatever she needs to bring him back is under the floorboards of his mother’s house. She thinks it an odd place to hide something so valuable, especially after one of his Horcruxes was stolen from it, but then Gaunt Shack is yet another connection between Merope and her, and the Heir of Slytherin must have an undoubtable connection to the Gaunt family.

She reads the letter again, taking her time now, letting her fingers caress the ink as she goes. Her heart comes to a halt at the very end.

_‘I do not know what you’ve come to know of me these past years, but know that my magic has taken things from me, though much less than what it has given me. Your Mother will surely train you to her best abilities, as I’ll do once you’re ready, but know this, my child: you were born a purpose, a means to an end, but you have proven to be far more than my augurey, far more than the dragon that keeps my future. You will be my best warrior, you will be my glory, you will be my right hand, but you are my daughter. I was robbed of many feelings, but you will always be cherished by me. Your Mother hinted at it, but you alone make me remember my humanity.’_

There’s no more after that, no signature, as if the Dark Lord could not force himself to sign the piece of paper where he had confessed to his greatest weakness. But the feeling is there, pressed into paper along with the ink.

And yes, the letter is filled with instructions to bring about a never ending rule of the Dark Lord Voldemort, but those last words reassure Delphini. There was more to her parents than what the wraiths showed her. There is more to her than a prophesised creature, just like Aunt Narcissa had said.

Guivre raises his head over her arm, asking questions about the letter, but is interrupted by a slight tap on the window. Delphini gets out of bed to open it and retrieve a note from an owl’s foot. An answer to her request, and albeit it is not what she expected, it makes her breathing a little easier; it removes some of the weight of the world from her shoulders. She lets her mind wonder if maybe, just maybe, she will one day be allowed to have a completely honest conversation with her family. Maybe all she has to do is ask.

And maybe all she has to do to avoid her fate is keep away from Gaunt Shack.

X

_N.12 Grimmauld Place, August 3rd 2013_

"You could talk to me Delphini, you know that."

"But then you're not family, are you? What do I need your side of things for? It's all over the newspapers and in all the books, I don't need you! I need the other side. The things that happened in the Manor, the things only my family knows."

Harry sighs, letting his shoulders down, conceding this one. Delphini has been in his house for no more than ten minutes now. She spared two to greet his family and then focused all her attention on him. He is just starting to regret agreeing to hold this meeting, agreeing to act as a mediator of sorts.

"Well, Hermione must be nearly here. I guess we'll see."

He chooses to wait in silence, and she does not press him to conversation. She is a witch on a mission, and reaching her goal does not depend on him. Standing by the window with her hands clasped behind her back, she faces the small walled off garden where his children play, and he can’t keep from feeling eerily disturbed at the sight, or from scratching his scar.

He forces himself to think of her as a sixteen-year-old witch, and a perfectly innocent one, despite her uncanny abilities. He forces himself to see past her blood, to see her, to see the beautiful creature clad in a dark green dress, wearing her hair loose down her back and falling over her shoulders, but keeping it off her face with a wide hair comb of intricate detail that he fails to recognize. He gulps, as he thinks that he would be hard pressed to find anyone so fitting of the Heir of Slytherin.

X

Delphini raises her green eyes from the windowsill to her reflection on the windowpane, then to the reflection of the witch that has just arrived, precisely on time. She turns to face her, hiding her hair comb from view. Potter may not have noticed the details, but Granger might. She has decided to use it as a challenge today, as a measure of the other witch’s ability to observe.

She wonders about what it was, exactly, that her mother did to Granger. The witch before her is tense, never fails to be whenever they cross paths. As tense as the strings on a violin, and Delphini quickly decides to try and play her as such. She knows what the ghost of her Mother is still capable of, so why not? Hermione has a soft spot, the tender place in the dragon's belly, and she will use it. She will stab her with fear; hurt her with terror, make her feel exactly like she feels when talking to her family these days.

She purposefully throws her hair off her shoulders. Not the demure, collected gesture of every day. No, something much more careless, tousling her neat curls well off her back before they land again. The effect is immediate and evident. Hermione shivers before they even have the chance to exchange greetings.

Harry invites them both to take a seat, making sure to sit on the armchair between the two sofas, which face each other across the carpet. With the battle lines clearly drew and Harry playing referee, Delphini launches her attack before he can offer them tea.

"What exactly were your intentions towards my family the day you demanded an Unbreakable Vow from them?"

Hermione is clearly jarred by the question. This is an angle she did not anticipate. Delphini secretly rejoices. She cannot access their thoughts; both have raised tight barriers around their minds, both keenly aware of the extent of her powers.

"My intentions towards your family? None other than being sure that you wouldn't be raised with some skewed view of the world. In order to let them keep you,” she replies, taking her time and measuring her words, “we couldn’t let them raise you to be a Dark Lady of some kind.”

The exchange grows tense from then on, moving towards muddy ground with every question and each reply. Delphini carries on; touching the bird skull at her neck with her long fingers, relishing in the control it provides her. Fixated on it, Hermione as failed to notice her hair piece, even as she walks back to stand at the window and is followed by her. They are going nowhere, it seems, but Delphini now knows exactly how to push her opponent over the edge.

X

“You didn’t want my family to raise me to be a dark witch, they didn’t. Mission accomplished. The Vow is no longer needed. Why can’t you lift it?”

Delphini has taken to pacing the length of the room, just in front of the windows, looking like a caged feral creature, equally alluring in her movement and in the way the light catches her profile and then doesn’t and then does once more as she passes the squares of light on the floor. Hermione has to shake her head to regain her focus and answer her.

"Delphini, I cannot remove the Unbreakable Vow. It is simply not possible. The Vow will die with those bound to it or take their lives should it be broken. There is no other way."

"I used to be able to talk about my Mother with my family but now I can't, can I? No, of course not, because you cursed them! I might be having a perfectly innocent conversation and say something that somehow refers to my Father and if they happen to answer me... well, that's one Malfoy down and wouldn't the Ministry love that?"

She is all scorn and anger now. Kept in the dark for too long, this star is just as willing to burn bright, fierce and fast as her Mother once was. She is out for a fight, quite simply. The steady crescendo of barriers has been piling up for too long and it will come crashing down if she is not stopped. Now.

"It was the right thing to do. It was our only plan. We couldn't risk-"

"The right thing to do? Because _you_ couldn’t risk it? How is it right to deprive me of my ancestry, of having a family I can talk to? Do you know what else was planned? Leaving your friend to be raised by a bunch of Muggles that did not care for him, because your side couldn’t risk him being found by my Father’s allies. Leaving me to be raised by a witch you wouldn't even think of, that happens to be bat crazy! Yes, that was planned for me. And my family stopped it! My family made sure I had a happy childhood and that I got to go to Hogwarts like everyone else! Instead of becoming a Dark Lady of some kind!"

Hermione is truly speechless now. She thought she knew what she was doing that day, but she was blindsided. Delphini is right here, standing across her, too restless to stop moving, revealing all sort of angles to this problem she never considered. But at the light of what she did know, she was right that day. It was the right thing to do, they couldn’t risk it, they still can’t.

"Dumbledore knew exactly what he was doing when he left Harry with the Dursleys, Delphini, and so-"

"Right, because it served him well, no doubt! Starved and mistreated for years."

"He defeated Lord Voldemort because of it, Delphini!"

"What if what you did that day keeps me from defeating him myself?"

She doesn't wait to hear her reply. Delphini spins on the balls of her feet and proceeds to storm outside. Harry has the presence of mind to chase after her, but all he gets is an angry retort about taking the Knight Bus home.

Hermione is left behind, silently trying to figure out the meaning of all this. Delphini fears that she may have to defeat Lord Voldemort, despite him being dead for over a decade. Hermione fears that the girl may turn out to be something far worse than a Horcrux. They most certainly cannot risk it.

X

Delphini walks down the street taking long strides, listening to her shoes tap an angry fast rhythm on the sidewalk. She has said too much. She has said far too much with a simple question and if anyone happens to be smart enough to figure out so much out of so little, it’s Hermione. All she can do now is hope. Hope that the question reflects enough of her intentions. Hope that if Hermione does figure this one out, she will deem her worthy of a chance and not a menace to society.

She takes a hard left, turning into a small park amongst the identical looking houses, all spick and span, in their ordinary brick walls, and ordinary white frame windows, and typical bay windows that look out to small gardens  in the back. Hidden from view, she delves into her left side pocket, feeling around for the button. She holds it tight in her palm and murmurs “ _Domus”_.

She is sucked into a new dimension where time is slow and place is non-existent, and she whirls in it for a moment, before finding herself just outside the gates of Malfoy Manor. Home. A house by no means ordinary, in its stately composure, in its lavish gardens, with the white peacocks walking around at leisure, slowly, as if showing off their feathers devoid of colour that shimmer in the shy sunlight of the day. She uses her hand to push the great dark door atop the steps, needing the comfort of touching.

Once inside, she takes a large breath, trying to force out all of the air from beyond these walls, soaking her lungs in the familiar scent of home. The minute traces of perfumes she has known for so long that she has no memory of when she first smelled them. Steading herself, she drops her light summer cloak on a low bench and walks briskly towards the stairs. There is one person she can talk to.

X

_Malfoy Manor, August 5th 2013_

Astoria wonders where she might find Draco at this time of the day, pondering which way to turn just outside their private quarters. The pitter-patter of Nala's nails on the wooden floor is her first clue, the happy waving of the little stump of a tail and the apple core emerging from its mouth tell her which way to go.

She finds her husband in the library, leaning on the high windows that face the lawn. He chuckles as a frustrated scream comes inside, carried by the summer breeze. Scorpius and Delphini must be outside then, messing around on broomsticks.

Moving silently, she stands behind him, examining his back and his arms and studying the best way to slide her arms around his chest without disturbing him. When she does, Draco takes a large breath in as Astoria cuddles against his shoulder, setting her hands to rest over his heart. He takes hold of one of her wrists and manoeuvres her hand to his lips, which leave the lightest of kisses on her palm. Then he sets her hand back where it was and it's her turn to take a lungful of air. She keeps trying not to think of how much longer she has to feel his heartbeat. She keeps failing, too. She has taken to sleeping on his chest and to falling asleep counting not sheep but her dragon's heartbeats. She holds on tighter for a second.

She knows he is smiling now, because she is up and about all on her own. He always has the dumbest, silliest smile on his lips when she manages to sneak up on him. Sneaking up means she can breathe properly and move freely. She never allows him to comment on it, though, because he hopes. He hopes far too much and she knows all too well what disappointment looks like in his ice blue eyes. She knows exactly which shade of blue shattered hope looks like in his gaze. And maybe, just maybe, she can keep him from being so very disappointed in the end if she keeps him from hoping. Maybe, just maybe, she can keep his hope from growing and keep her dragon whole enough so that he can help Scorpius after she is gone.

Her fate is set in stone. But she is not here for them today. She is here for her, for Delphini, whose fate is yet undetermined.

"She needs you, Draco. She needs your help," she says, very softly.

"What happened? She is fine."

"She is as fine as you used to be. You taught her that, too. How to stuff it all inside and put on a display for the benefit of others," she says, almost whispering into his shoulder blade, feeling his tension build there, "and she is better at it than you ever were. I know you can see her outside, making sure Scorpius is happy, but she is broken inside, has been for a while, and you have to go to her."

He extricates one of his arms from her embrace, moving it over her head so that he can bring her forward, so that he can face her. He holds her against him, close, so very close, but she doesn't feel _it_ anymore, so she moves her hands from his back to the centre of his chest once more.

"What do you know that I don't"? He asks, kissing her forehead and then each of her cheeks.

"She went to Hermione. Hush now," she orders, placing a couple of fingers over his mouth, "let me speak. She tried talking to me, after the prophecy, but I don't have answers for her. You shielded me from what was happening here and I don't know any of the things she wants to know about her parents. So she tried reaching out for Hermione, but it didn't work."

"By that do you mean it didn't go her way, or that there's a mess of some sort to clean up?"

"Hush, Draco, let me finish! As if Delphie would leave a mess behind,” she adds, rolling her eyes, “She tried to have the Vow removed. Hermione said it can't be, and she doesn’t believe her, so she is in a dark, tough place right now. She has hundreds of questions and I don't have any answers. I know you can't give her the answers she wants, but you can talk to her. And you can tell me enough about her parents so that I can answer her sometimes."

 _Soothe her,_ she thinks, _soothe her before she bursts in frustration, my dragon._

He smiles that proud smile he has picked up from his father, though he makes more use of it than Lucius, and then takes her face in his slender hands to tilt it up to him and dive in her warm brown eyes.

"I love you," he says, right before kissing her. It's not light, but it is tender, slow and purposeful, "and I don't know what I would do without you."

"You two are birds of a feather sometimes," she tells him, averting the sorrowful matter they do not dare mention, "now go to her. Send Scorpius to me, I'll keep him busy."

X

Delphini is joyfully teasing Scorpius by manipulating the Snitch in the air. Were she a normal witch and Draco would wonder how on earth she could have such perfect control of something deeply charmed to have a will of its own. But she is nothing if not extraordinary, so he simply takes comfort from the fact that at least she needs her wand to do it, which means she can't cheat at Quidditch. Yet.

"Scorpius, come down. Your Mother needs you inside."

"What for?"

"Don't question your Mother, boy. Go." It's an order, of that there is no doubt, but he takes the edge off with a wink and a caress over his silvery hair as his son approaches him.

"You just want to conspire over my birthday with Delphie!"

“Maybe we do," Delphini says, taking Draco's cue, "are you saying you don't want a birthday present?"

They both stand there, watching Scorpius run across the lawn, silently hoping for a world where he never becomes an orphan.

“You’d think a Slytherin would be better at lying,” she jibes with a wry smile on her lips.

She looks happy, she does, but Draco can see the shadow in the green, how whatever sorrows that she carries now have darkened the emerald green, how the weight of what it is that she now knows about herself and her parents has dulled the spark in her eyes. He laughs, determined to start this on a light note.

“Here, I brought you something to eat,” he says, tossing her an apple, “since I’ll be keeping you here until dinner and we can’t Conjure food.”

“You are?” She is carefully avoiding his eyes, as if he were the skilled Legillimens out of the two. Instead, she studies the apple. It is the reddest apple Draco could find in the house, shiny in the summer sun, its colour made vibrant by the contrast against the pale skin of Delphini’s hands. She turns it in her hands, looking for the best place to sink her teeth into. It’s all very familiar somehow, and he realizes then that she has picked it up from him.

“I am keeping you until dinner because you need to talk to someone. You haven’t really been yourself since you went to Euphemia’s.”

“I can’t speak of it with you,” she tells him, huffing and tugging her braid over her shoulder, “that’s why I went to Toria.”

He lets the silence be, cueing her with his eyes, while waiting for her to swallow another bite of the apple.

“And then I wrote to Mrs. Granger because I needed to see her about this nonsensical vow. But all she has to say is that there’s nothing to be done. She figured out how to destroy Horcruxes, but this is beyond her reach apparently. So I can’t talk to you, or anyone else for that matter, and I have a suspicious looking box to open, and somehow hope that I don’t bring about the end of the world by doing it, because apparently that’s the reason I was born!”

She takes a furious bite then, the crunch of the pulp giving way sounding loud, removing a veritable chunk of the yellowish flesh, and chewing as if the apple were at fault for it all.

Draco takes out his wand, Summoning a light blanket, which he spreads over the grass. He sits down, patting the space beside him. She crumbles in the most composed way he has ever seen anyone crumble, letting her legs give under her weight, a sort of falling that looks like dancing, her skirts billowing around her, scrunching up where they lie against him, a perfect façade worthy of being painted by the masters while hiding a deeply injured core. She holds herself straight and apart, but only for a second, quickly collapsing towards him, burrowing into his embrace.

“It will be alright, Delphie, it will,” he consoles her while she silently sobs, careful to avoid calling her little bird or sweet star of darkness. He has seen her flinch, ever so slightly, when his parents use the customary endearments, and even if she does not voice it, there’s hurt there. An unfathomable amount of it.

“You know, I used to think you would just blow the vow away with your magic someday, like you did with the spells we put on you to keep snakes away.”

That brings her head up to look at him. She is curious now, and this is something he can tell her about.

“There was a spell to keep snakes away from me?”

“When you were very little. You were a precocious hisser, to put it mildly, and we couldn’t risk your Parseltongue being exposed. But you somehow outgrew it, I’m not sure when. What I do know is that you went to France and came back with a strange pet.”

She chuckles, turning her eyes to his.

“But if you knew I was a Parseltongue, what was the matter in the first place? It’s not like there were plenty of social gatherings happening at the time.”

“You’d say that, but then you’ve never seen a nine month old baby hiss at a very large snake and be utterly convinced that the thing was following your orders.”

She laughs openly at that. This is dangerous ground that they’re moving on, but he’ll risk it if there’s a way to make her better in it.

“It was mostly my fault, you see. When you were two, or something thereabout, I brought you a little pet snake as a gift. I was almost disinherited and disembowelled on the spot when Mother found us. So I worked with Granger on a spell that would keep snakes away from you.”

Suddenly, Delphini sits a little straighter, all attention focused on something else than his words. When she speaks again, there’s a taint of sadness to her voice.

“I must have rid myself of it the day I killed Wabby… I couldn’t talk to snakes before that, and snakes wouldn’t approach me like they did after.”

“You didn’t kill Wabby, Delphie, it was-”

“I didn’t know what I was doing, but it was _my_ magic and Wabby died. I did do it. I didn’t mean it, but I did do it. But then the vow isn’t a spell cast on me. I don’t think it can be removed like that.”

“Well, we could go look for a Muggle and wind you up…”

“Draco! That’s wrong!” She is adamant but giggling.

“What? It used to be a thing, you know? Hunting Muggles for the fun of it. I’m pretty sure there’s a trophy or two in the attic. I’m just making sure your moral compass is sound.”

“It is; thank you for your concern. What’s wrong with you?”

“Your Mother would have jumped at the chance to do it.”

“I’m not my Mother!” She pushes her body off, away from him, on the verge of tears, clearly furious at the insinuation. This is where he needs her to be if he is to make her see.

“My point exactly. You’re also not your-”

“STOP! Don’t you dare! You can’t.” She is up and ready to leave, but he reaches for her hand before she can move further away.

“Delphini, we spent years doing this. You asked questions and we answered, and sometimes we meant Rodolphus and others we didn’t. We kept it vague. No one died. No one will. You can talk to us.”

“Stop, please.”

And on that very second Draco hates himself for being the cause to her tears, for making her retreat from him, for making her plead for respite.

“Stop that, Draco, please,” she begs of him, “I won’t stand here and watch you do this. I won’t trade any of you for them, so please stop.” The half restrained sobs come forward then, sounding like a whimper at first, and they travel straight to Draco’s heart.

He is up with both his arms around her in absolutely no time. She trembles, apparently pushed to the very brim of what she can take. One more push and he’ll have the answer he needs. He has a certain suspicion about Unbreakable Vows.

“How did Rodolphus tell you, that day in Azkaban?”

She raises her head from under his chin and he realizes that it won’t be long before she has to crouch to fit there.

“He didn’t tell me,” she says quickly, shaking her head, “I looked into his mind. He barely said anything.”

“There you go then. He was under a similar vow and he is still alive. Look into my mind, look into everyone’s.”

“No, you’re family! I could never do that.”

“Delphini, you were spared a far worse fate. Had that Battle ended differently and we wouldn’t be standing here, not like this. There wouldn’t be a Malfoy left on earth. Your Father caused enough suffering and I won’t have you put through this anymore.”

She jolts back the moment he mentions Lord Voldemort. Her expression is one of pure terror, the quintessential fear, and she has a stream of tears running down her cheeks. She stands there, an arm’s length away, staring, clearly expecting him to die on the spot in some form of unnameable torture.

But nothing happens.

“You-you… didn’t. You can’t,” she mumbles, covering her mouth. And then she is completely lost to tears. Draco is fairly sure that she can’t even see him. When she falls to her knees, he is right by her side. She is far too big now, but he finds a way to cradle her as he did when she was little, keeping his mouth next to her ear and one hand on her curls, steadying her head through the crying.

“The Vow forbade us from telling you, Delphini, and no one did. You found out on your own, you found a way around it, and no one died. You lifted the Vow with your magic. You can talk to us, little bird, you don’t have to hide from us. Lord Voldemort couldn’t kill us then, and he cannot kill us now. Nor can Granger.”

She allows her crying all the leash that she has been holding. They will not speak another word until Narkey comes looking for them because it’s time for dinner. Draco keeps her in his embrace all afternoon, like he held her that first night, way past the numbness in his legs, way past the sobs in her throat, way past her tears have dried.

X

_Malfoy Manor, August 7th 2013_

Delphini is happily mingling this afternoon, enjoying the sun on her skin, exposed by a daring open back summer dress, just this side of too formal. She wears her hair comb again. She has decided to own her ancestry. If she does, no one can use it to hurt her, or her family.

She is talking to Daphne, who these days answers by Mrs. Zabini and is very proud of the little one-year-old of dark skin in her arms, when she overhears a conversation between Uncle Lucius and a snobbish looking wizard, amidst a larger group. The matter at hand is the results each of their children obtained in their OWLs.

The wizard, the father of a Hufflepuff in her year, if she’s not wrong, is bragging about his son’s grades, looking incredibly conceited, and utterly convinced that is son is some sort of genius. Uncle Lucius turns to her, almost smiling, and asks how many Os she got in her OWLs with that deep velvety voice that oozes superiority.

"I got Os in all of my subjects, Uncle,” she replies, looking straight into the wizard’s eyes, “that’s eleven subjects, to be clear, I took three electives." Her smug smile is only bested by her Uncle’s. This is their turf, and they will not be outdone, outshined or outsmarted, in any way.

"Even at Muggle Studies?" Asks a clearly horrified elderly witch with skin that looks like parchment, standing on the other side of Uncle Lucius.

"Even at Muggle Studies. You don't have to write them an ode," she elaborates with her best smile carefully poised on her lips, "just that they have found interesting ways to make up for their lack of magical ability, without pointing out _that_ particular flaw."

With a final smug smirk from Uncle Lucius, the bragging about the grades of sons and daughters comes to an end, and the conversation quickly finds another theme. Delphini turns to Daphne once more, who chuckles. High society is always fun when someone is being taught a lesson with class, and Daphne is quite skilled at it. Delphini carries on talking, noticing how very alike the two sisters look, even if Astoria is all softness where Daphne provides only sharp edges.

After all the singing is done, and the presents opened, and the children are starting to give into the torpor that follows any decent playdate, the conversation slowly starts to die down. What refuses to follow suit are the rumours about Astoria and Scorpius. The rumours about how she ruined her health by traveling back in time to conceive a child with the Dark Lord. The rumours about how the Malfoys came to hold the trump card and keep close to power once more. They're not mentioned, not even in the forgotten corners were old witches seem naturally inclined to congregate and gossip about anyone and anything. They're not even whispered, but they are alive in their minds. Despite the fact that Scorpius is the spitting image of Draco. Despite the fact that Astoria is up and about, carrying her nephew and doting over him, looking happy and laughing without coughing once, not at all burdened by her supposedly ruined health, the rumours live on. Delphini can hear it all.

And not all of them think of the rumours as horrifying. Most people seem to consider Scorpius some sort of freak, but think of him as innocent, a victim of his family’s ambition, but some think of him as a light to congregate to in the future. When he is older, they think, and more powerful, they will unite around him, like they did before, and have the rightful order of the world re-established, with Muggle-borns, Mudbloods they call them, in their place, at the bottom, and not heading Ministry Departments. Delphini is horrified as she investigates further into everyone’s mind, finding that although the façade has changed, these people have not. Their prejudice has not died, and this elaborate theory that surrounds Astoria and Scorpius may turn out to be far more dangerous than she ever imagined.

X

_Diagon Alley, August 16th 2013_

"Teddy! Over here!"

Delphini's clear voice catches her cousin's attention despite the raucous crowd in the bookshop.

She is her usual effortlessly poised self, leaning on a bookshelf with an arm full of books, perfectly wild yet tamed curls spilling over her embroidered short-sleeved white shirt, tucked at the waist under a silk sash from which her maroon skirt flows down.

He is his usual just-on-this-side-of-messy self, wearing jeans and a loose t-shirt, not a care in the world about the fact that his socks do not match.

"Hi! Shopping for supplies for next year?" He reaches her mid-question, negotiating a path through over excited eleven-year-olds gathered round first year course books.

"Pretty much," she replies, with the coy smile of someone about to buy at least three more books than those necessary, "and you?"

"Same. But I came with the Potters," he answers, "James is going to Hogwarts this year, too." He winks, running his fingers through his shock-of-a-blue hair in a manner she has seen Auror Potter do many times over.

She smiles openly, acknowledging without words that he is without his Grandmother. It means they can spend time together, without worries. The fact that she'll have to put with obnoxious mini-Potter for an entire school year is already forgotten.

Harry comes round a bookshelf, laughing at something a little ginger girl is telling him. Their eyes meet, under the stares of pretty much every soul in the shop. They nod at each other, a simple yet meaningful greeting.

Delphini and Teddy end up finishing their shopping minus the Potters. They replenish their potions stocks, then get fitted for new robes while discussing the Quidditch gear they both need from Brooms and Bristles. Instead of ice cream at Florean's though, Teddy challenges her to a walk the park nearby.

They end up sitting down on the grass, talking the hours away, staring right back at wizards and witches passing by when their eyes linger for a tad too long. A nice stack of packages wrapped in brown paper by Teddy’s side, because he forgot to bring his expanded rug sack. No parcel at all by Delphini’s side, because what didn’t fit into her handbag is being sent straight to Malfoy Manor.

"Teddy, don't you ever wish your parents were still alive?"

"Sometimes, I do. It was worse when I was little. I mean, I have my Grandma, and Harry and the others... I have you," and at that he smiles in earnest, "but, yes. I guess I do."

"How do you cope? With the wishing, you know, what do you do when it gets overwhelming?"

"I go to them. I talk to them for a little while and things get better."

"What!? How do you... Teddy, how do you talk to them? Can you see them?"

"See them? What are you talking about? I visit their graves, Delphie, how else am I supposed to talk to them? It's not like I can Floo them across the Veil!" He guffaws, but stops the second she frowns. Her perfectly arched eyebrows close in around her eyes and his rise on his forehead.

"You don't do that? Don't you visit your Mother's grave? I know you went to Azkaban once, you told me... Delphini, you've managed to get inside Azkaban as a visitor, are you telling me that visiting your Mother's grave never occurred to you? Is it the Malfoys? Because if they won't take you, I'll get my godfather to take us both!"

"No, Teddy, it's not my family. They never kept me from going to her. It's just... it never came up."

"Never came up? That's not normal."

"Because you and I are the epitome of normalcy... We talk about my Mother all the time, she feels close to me in that way. But no, I don't know where they buried her."

She quickly changes the topic, then, but her mind dwells on the matter still. Teddy seems to forget about it quite easily, especially once he looks at his watch and practically jumps three feet in the air. He is late, and she waves him off at the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron.

X

_Tonks House, August 16th 2013_

Teddy comes home just in time for dinner. Andromeda is cooking and the smell of roasted potatoes fills the house. He shakes the cinder off his blue hair as he walks into the kitchen, a huge smile plastered on his face.

Andromeda loves seeing him like this. Happy, with a silly grin and a spring to his step.

"Sorry, Grandma, I forgot to watch the time."

He always does. He leaves for lunch at the Potters and ends up at the Burrow with the Weasleys, having to do everything but pry Molly's hands off him so that he can come home for dinner with her. He always has dinner with her. Sometimes, she knows, he spends time with Delphini. He is much more familiar with the inside of Malfoy Manor than he lets on, but that is something he does not share with her. He knows it is hurtful for her, so he doesn't bring it up.

But sometimes he forgets. Sometimes, he is so happy he can't help but share why.

"I spent the afternoon with Delphie. She was out shopping as well and I stumbled upon her at the bookshop. James was too excited to be around, anyway, so we just did our shopping together, instead."

Teddy doesn't even notice the words coming out of his mouth. Not until he hears the sound of dishes crashing on the floor. The plates Andromeda was levitating just a second ago are allowed down long before they could reach the table. And that never, ever, happens.

"Sorry, Gran," he is livid, "I didn't mean to upset you." Teddy looks to her, utterly lost.

Andromeda never lets herself falter like this, not when he can see her. She keeps it together, no matter what, whenever Teddy is around. She saves her tears and her sobs for the long nights when he is away at Hogwarts.

She can't cry in the summers, so she has been using her nights for planning, to no avail. She manages to force her tears down on most nights. And when she doesn't, she can almost feel them boil and simmer on her cheeks with the heat of her anger. She has been all rage and wrath ever since that day on the platform, but she has been strict about keeping it to herself.

This is her way in. This is her path to revenge, now made clear before her. She will use Teddy's tie to Delphini to pull her closer, just this once. Just close enough to strike, just close enough to slay the green eyed creature that haunts her nights. Just this once, her tie to Teddy will not make her bleed at the mention of the girl. No, her tie to Teddy will be secure, for she will cut the girl away.

It won't be fair on Teddy, but then life never is. It won't be right to use him to get to her, but it is better for him. Not fair, but for the greater good.

X

_Malfoy Manor, August 20th 2013_

Narcissa holds a letter from her sister in her hands. Not her dead sister. Her mind would be somewhat more amenable to that concept though, of a letter from beyond the Veil. No. Narcissa holds a letter from the sister she was made to treat and think of as dead for the past forty years.

Her lungs seem to have just as hard of a task coping. Struggling and pulling at the inside of her ribs as Narcissa moves through the house, from the sitting room to the sunroom downstairs. Her heart sounds like a galloping horse in her ears, feels like a war drum in her chest.

Making sure that she is alone, she takes a seat on her favourite upholstered wooden bench. All warm wood and burgundy softness, looking out to the gardens beyond the French doors and the wide glass-panelled windows. This was the place where she liked to talk to Bella, before Azkaban, when she arrived with her blood up and her heart racing, exuding magic. The sunroom seemed to settle her, as much as settling Bellatrix was possible. Maybe it will settle her this time, she thinks as she stares at the letter on her lap.

With the crack of the wax and the first few lines, all hope is gone. There will be no settling after this.

Safety is not real. It is an illusion people allow themselves in order to survive, in order to live and not crumble to the fear of what the future might yet bring. A dainty illusion that her sister's handwriting has just shattered.

Andromeda has written to her, for the first time since 1972. And she writes of how much she would like to entertain Delphini for dinner at her house. For no good reason, out of the blue and making absolutely no sense whatsoever. They had plenty of occasions to meet and introduce their children properly, but Andromeda always steered clear of them.

They are Blacks, as much as they've changed their last names. They are Blacks, as much as Andromeda would wish to deny it.

They are Blacks, and dinner invitations are never just that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is reaaaally long, because I wanted it to end right there. Also, apologies to the people I pm’ed promising a chapter in five days. I got slightly off course with forum works plus I completely forgot about my grandmother’s birthday this past weekend, so yes, I’m a terrible person in both fronts.  
> A quick statement on my beliefs about Lord Voldemort’s ability to love: I don’t think he could feel the fluffy, joyful ideal of love, but I do think him capable of a dark and twisted form of it, hence why I ship Bellamort. Do I think he would have been a tender and caring father? Not really, but more on that in what lies ahead for this fic.  
> That said, and don’t take me wrong, I can see how many people have been reading this fic, and I’m not getting as many reviews as I’d like to, so if you are reading, just let me know what you think. You don’t have to write me an essay, or a comprehensive review of the chapter, just a quick “I like this” or “I think you could do better in this” or “I’d like more of this” or some other little something like that. Your reviews make my day, and fuel my writing.  
> My plea for help with ideas still stands. Beware of spoilers from here on: I’ve got some great input by a couple of you (due credit to all will be on the chapters’ notes), but the Triwizard Tournament does have three tasks, and conundrums and stuff, and brainstorming with my readers is always fun and really helpful. I’m looking for crowd pleasing tasks, if that helps. Just pm me, or drop me your suggestions in the comments. It will be during Delphini’s sixth year, so she won’t be of age yet, but she will be deeply involved in it, and it leads to a lot of important things in this fic. Basically, I’ve got stuff planned around the tasks, during the tasks, in between the tasks, but not the actual tasks… genius way of getting writer’s block, I know.


	49. To Make a Choice

_Ministry for Magic, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, August 22nd 2013_

Hermione is deep into her readings about the new code on magical creatures' rights violations, making sure that the cases she's currently overseeing are strong enough to stand before the Wizengamot. It's the end of the day, so she has let down her hair, only to pull it up again and stick her wand in it to hold it in a messy sort of bun at the back of her head.

She looks up from the files to the door as her secretary knocks.

"Come in, Helen. I thought I told you to go home already," she says, flipping another page in the case file and letting her eyes drift downwards.

"I was just leaving," the young witch hesitates, her expression obviously concerned, "but there's someone here to see you."

"Now? What happened? Go on home; I'll handle this," her voice is trapped in her throat at the sight of Narcissa Malfoy standing at her door, "on my own, and then I'll lock up the files." She manages to finish the sentence as the witch clad in perfectly tailored deep blue robes walks inside. Hermione feels compelled to stand in her presence, not even noticing her body rising from the chair before she is up, back straight, her hands trying to mitigate the wrinkling of her pencil skirt.

Mrs. Malfoy removes her robes and places them neatly on the back of the chair opposing her desk, and the dress she has on underneath is almost too white, though the warm golden light of her spacious office lends it a softer image.

Hermione quickly rearranges her hair, thinking that she must look ridiculous with her wand turned into a hairpin; especially when compared to the immaculate half-up hairdo that holds the golden blonde hair of the witch before her. Then, she walks around her desk and directs Narcissa to the more comfortable armchairs at the fireplace. She decides to take the lead, instead of waiting for the other witch to state her business here.

"Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy. I suppose that this concerns my meeting with Delphini. My word is final. I cannot remove the Unbreakable Vow," she speaks the words hurriedly but precisely, "nor do I wish to investigate ways of doing so." Perfect enunciation despite the lump in her throat, hoping to be done quickly and painlessly.

"Oh, this has nothing to do with that particular matter. You were very young then. Unbreakable Vows are fickle things, you should know. How you word them is of utmost importance," she keeps her lips from smiling and her features composed, but there's a smug glint in her grey eyes, "so no, we never told Delphini that her father was Lord Voldemort, but no, it didn't stop us from talking to her about him. You were much too precise with your words, while all we have to do is keep ours vague."

She is jarred by the boldness of the statement. Narcissa is simply communicating to her that there are workarounds to the vow she imposed on them, quite simply unbreakable but not unbendable.

Hermione sits at the edge of the armchair, elbows on her thighs, while Narcissa almost lounges in hers, albeit perfectly poised. Mrs. Malfoy holds far more authority in this room than she does, and that irks her. It is clear now that there's a lioness in the room, fighting for her cub, and it is not the Gryffindor. The irony of it does not escape Hermione, but neither does it escape Narcissa from what she can tell. No, it does not escape her, and Narcissa seems to have every intention of using the power she has gained over her in only a few minutes.

What escapes Hermione is the essence of all this. She holds figments of the truth but they escape her fingers like water, seeping through the fissures. There is one thought alive and kicking at the front of her mind, though, guiding her, trying to figure a way to stand her ground once more. This woman, this witch, this mother, lied to Lord Voldemort's face, well within his reach, for the sake of her son. She wonders which lie she has been told for the sake of Delphini. She worries for the true meaning of such a ruse, for the true intentions behind such action.

"Let's be very clear, Mrs. Granger," Narcissa starts once more, "I'm here to fill you in on a certain matter, because I deem it the best way to keep my niece safe. There is a prophecy about Delphini. I know nothing of it other than it refers to her as 'the Augurey'. I trust you dislike the sound of that as much as I do, if not more, considering the illogical nonsense that comes with it."

Hermione takes a sharp breathe in through her nostrils. So this is why Delphini talked of defeating her own dead father. Narcissa gives her no chance to interrupt, though.

"Delphini dislikes it tremendously, and she is afraid of it. I've lost count to the number of times I've told her that her fate is not set in stone, that a prophecy cannot determine her future. I do not want you to remove the Vow; I do not need you to. I'm here to demand a vow of your own. Swear to me that you'll do anything in your ability to help her, to keep her from the harm of injustice, because we both know that the world will show her precisely none of the fair treatment you advocate for and that she deserves, that she has earned. And I do so without demanding that your life hangs in the balance."

And Hermione knows now what she has thought on for years. She knows now that this woman would have killed Harry and her the day they met Delphini. Had things not gone her wat, she would have killed them both and run with her precious child; that much is perfectly obvious now. Narcissa Malfoy is not a pretty little flower, no dainty pure thing by the water. Oh no, her thorns are much more vicious than those her eldest sister bore, for they lay hidden, waiting, concealed by the bright soft petals she shows the world. The perfectly innocent looking flower carrying the most powerful of poisons within her.

Love. A Mother's love.

Love that she will wield like a weapon, wear like a shield, and use to set the world ablaze should anyone come for her girl. Her daughter, not of flesh, but of blood, but of heart.

They were merely lucky that day, she sees now. Merely lucky that Draco sought them out, because had he not and this woman would have thrown her entire existence in luxury and comfort to the wind, would have thrown it away without a second thought, if it meant keeping Delphini safe.

The lioness stands, taking her silence for agreement, and she looks down to where she still sits, at a loss for words. She has shown her claws, she has roared, she has bared her teeth, now she shall retreat to her lair and guard her cub in it. And Hermione wouldn't wish facing her wrath upon her worst enemy.

X

_Tonks House, August 24th 2013_

Andromeda brushes her hair, looking at the mirror in front of her, eyes locked in the reflection of the brush she holds. It's made of silver and her name is engraved on the handle. She knows Narcissa must still have hers. She wonders if the girl inherited the one that belonged to her mother.

As much as she meant to do it, she could never part with the brush. She never found one that could brush through her curls quite so smoothly, quite so comfortably. It is charmed, she knows. She remembers the day her mother gifted it to her. She had just turned five, and she was terribly jealous of Bellatrix, who had already received hers at her own fifth birthday.

It does not shine like it used too. It has long been left unpolished. There are spots and specks, and her hand is often left with the blueish green residue of old silver. She could care for it properly; she probably should. It's the last Black possession that she owns. The last trace of her childhood. But then it would be a pretty, shiny object, and she does not trust those. Then it would undeniably be an heirloom of the House of Black, and that she could never stand. She has no daughter to inherit it. _Not anymore,_ her mind reminds her. She keeps it out of her practical nature, she tells herself every time she brushes her hair. _Out of sentimentality_ , her mind always whispers back. She keeps it as a token of a future that escaped her when she chose Tonks over Black. A future that she escaped, and one she condemned herself to.

 _She_  is coming for dinner tonight, the girl that may have inherited Bellatrix's brush. The girl with the green eyes that will, eventually, take Teddy away from her. She keeps repeating the same sentence, again and again, turning it over in her mind.

_You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood. You will not judge the girl for her blood._

It does her little good. She has tried to, but she sees too much of them in her. She must know. She has decided to take charge of her fate, once and for all, but first she must know precisely how much of her parents' nature has found purchase in the girl. She must know the monster before she slays it.

Like a bird through a spider web, the girl will shatter the sanctuary she has built for herself, the place where she keeps Teddy safe, and the place where her sanity struggles the least. She will let her come inside, but she has no real intention of allowing her to leave unharmed.

Delphini, they say, and they think stars. But she remembers how much Bellatrix liked the name. Not just because it was a constellation, but because it resembled Delphyne, the she-dragon that guarded the oracle. Bellatrix wouldn't just care for pretty stars in the night sky. Not unless there was some hidden meaning to them, something  _more_ , something  _dangerous_  under the surface. A dragon in disguise sounds just like the sort of thing Bellatrix would appreciate. It's why Bella took so easily to the Lestrange brothers. It's why she liked Rodolphus. It's why she adored her master. For the very danger of being close to them, for the trill of approaching the beast in its lair, for the comfort of belonging to a pack of one's equals.

Andromeda runs the brush through her hair one last time before setting it down. Then she takes to her desk, finally deciding to sign her name at the bottom of the scroll laying there. She rolls it up quickly, as if it could hurt her if touched for too long. It couldn't, it wouldn't, but it will hurt someone.

It will hurt  _her_.

She needs allies if she wants to keep Teddy safe. She can keep the girl at bay and Teddy busy during the summers, but she needs someone to help her inside Hogwarts. This letter, this plea for help, is her only hope. At first, she wanted to scream the truth at the world, but Teddy would surely stand between the world and the girl, and she would never let him sacrifice himself for the girl. Then she thought of Potter and that ended in nothing but ashes in her mouth, a vengeance robbed from her with nothing but the aftertaste of defeat.

_They love her and they are weaker for it. They do not see the danger; they do not see the darkness hovering above them. They never saw the monster._

So this is her last chance, her last opportunity to obtain an ally. Andromeda ties the scroll to the foot of the owl, held up in the air, waiting. With a caress to the top of the owl's head, she whispers, as if the trees could hear her and destroy her plans.

"Take this to Minerva McGonagall."

X

They sit happily in conversation, Teddy and her, almost unaware of Andromeda's presence. Almost, because she is keenly focused on the girl and she can't help but notice the staring.

Andromeda had managed to keep her poise at first, when they exchanged formal greetings at the door, right before Teddy enveloped Delphini in a hug, laughing, giddy in his happiness. Teddy is a Tonks, not a Black, Andromeda raised him so, and he does not see beyond the dinner invitation, beyond his chance of gathering the people he loves around the same table. Teddy is a Tonks, not a Black, Andromeda raised him so; for it is easier to be happy as a Tonks. Blacks scheme and conspire, ever suspicious, Blacks see the intentions behind every gesture and every word, for their world is much darker and will swallow the careless whole. Tonks enjoy life in the bliss of ignorance, unaware of just how dark their surroundings truly are. Andromeda wanted her grandchild to be happy, as her daughter was, so she raised them as Tonks and may lose the both of them for it. She raised them as Tonks and kept the bitterness all to herself. Bitterness that she will unleash on this girl, while keeping Teddy oblivious to it. First, though, she will let him have his happiness, even if it will be short-lived.

The girl is a Black though, that much is clear, and so a fit contender. She needs only know how much of a Riddle she is, and once she has the measure of her, she'll strike. She'll slay the green eyed creature that haunts her nights, pulling Teddy away from her, leaving her stranded on that barren rock amidst the stormy sea.

"Have you heard the rumours about the Triwizard Tournament? There's been talk at the Ministry. They want to bring it back," Teddy asks Delphini, running his fingers through the hair Andromeda had just put to rights.

"What? Again?" The girl sounds honestly surprised, but then the Malfoys no longer dwell inside the Ministry, "They stopped it because students died all the time, then they brought it back and a student died with the added bonus of a Dark Lord returned. What else do they need to happen? A full blown war between all three schools?"

That surprises her. The natural way in which the girl speaks of her dead father, calling him the Dark Lord with ease is daring. She is trying to get her measure as well, assessing her for weaknesses, looking for what makes her shiver or jolt. A Black indeed, figuring out what makes people tick. Andromeda shows no reaction to it, listening to their conversation and to their well-humoured banter.

"You just hate it because you won't be of age when it starts!"

"If it starts… Let's just hope that the Goblet doesn't put some poor 'Puff up for sacrifice."

"Oh! Because lions, snakes and eagles would never die in the tournament, is that it?"

"No, you dolt! Because the damned thing has selected underage wizards before. I know I can make it, and I know that my friends can make it-"

"Only because you would all cheat your way through it!"

"Be quiet. We're cunning. The point is: I'd be worried for you, because you lot are all about helping each other, and you couldn't lie to get out of trouble if your life depended on it. So I would rather not have a Hufflepuff at all, than have to wonder what sort of suicidal plan you'll be involved in to get said 'Puff to the finish line in a single piece."

Andromeda is trying to isolate what's real from what's ruse, trying to understand just how much the girl actually cares for Teddy and how much of it is a display for her benefit. It's not easy, not at all, because she sounds so very sincere. But then so did her father when it suited him and his cause. So did her mother when she set her eyes on a prize.

They carry on while Andromeda moves back to the kitchen to finish up their dinner. She rearranged the furniture so that she can look over her shoulder and see the two of them. Mostly so that she can see her, seated comfortably on the sofa Nymphadora liked to sprawl on; all grace and manners where her daughter was often clumsy and too spontaneous to care about norms of conduct. The perfect young witch that her sister raised, occupying the place her own daughter should be in. She lets her anger smoulder, but not boil out of containment. She needs her wrath; she's harvesting it for later.

The girl,  _Delphini_ , she forces herself to say in her mind, seems careless and perfectly at ease, toying with her necklace, laughing along with Teddy, rejoicing when he tells her that he'll be a Prefect this coming year. And when Andromeda is trying the hardest to see her affection for an act, she feels it.

A familiar pushing against her mind, almost not there, as if squeezing in through a crack. A green-eyed monster slithering over her mind, looking for a way inside. A Riddle indeed, squirming into her mind to fully assess her intentions. Andromeda is not an  _Occlumens_ , she left home in time, and she never had to properly shield her mind. She has no barriers to put in place, but she knows how to keep certain thoughts at the front of her mind and force the  _Legilimens_  to be blunt about her invasion should she wish to see more. She used to do it to Tom Riddle. She never had locks to her doors, but she made sure the bells rung if they were ever opened.

_All those rumours about Scorpius and Astoria and the answers are right there! And they are all blind. She is the perfect mixture of their darkness, of their looks, how can they not see?_

She decides to play a game. She won't let the girl see her thoughts about her, but she can show her all sorts of things about her parents. Memories that she has of them, memories of reading the news about them, memories of listening to the wireless at night, when they listed the lost and the missing, and thinking that they had done it, that they had caused it. She will show the girl a selected display of what her parents were capable of, and learn more about her from the girl's reaction to it.

X

Delphini is carefully pushing on her aunt's mind, feeling for a fissure, trying to see her thoughts without really intruding her mind, while keeping the conversation with Teddy going. It’s as if she’s sliding her hand over a mirror of water without being allowed to disturb it, as if caressing a smooth granite slab with the single purpose of finding an imperfection. She can feel a headache forming, just behind her eyes, a stabbing to the rhythm of her pulse. She won't be able to keep it up for long, so she needs to make this work.

Aunt Narcissa warned her repeatedly about her sister, and Delphini can plainly understand why. Though she leaves talking to Teddy and her, she is listening carefully to every word that comes out of her mouth. She can see Andromeda in the kitchen, making herself look busy over preparing dinner, and yet keeping all of her attention focused on her voice.

Unlike her, Delphini cannot focus fully on the task at hand, and she knows that her probing of the older witch's mind is failing. Not only because she is not listening to her thoughts, but because Andromeda seems to be aware of it. They exchange a look, their eyes meeting for the briefest second, slate grey and emerald green, steel and jewel, and for the first time in her life, Delphini sees grey eyes and does not think  _love_ or  _family_. She sees grey eyes just like her Mother's, just like her Aunt's, and all that she can think is  _hatred_ , and  _danger_ , and  _trap_.

Andromeda Tonks makes for quite an opponent. She picks up on her  _Legilimency_  far sooner than anyone ever has. Not even Auror Potter was bothered by her skill, when she first looked at his mind, without looking into it. There is no equal push against her defences, so if Andromeda is a  _Legilimens_ , like her, she is holding her cards close to her chest. And Delphini does not like that one bit. She feels trapped here. If it comes to it, how is she supposed to defend herself from Teddy's Grandma? She can't just fling her magic at her and hope that Teddy understands. She feels trapped and her mind is playing tricks on her, incapable of settling down, unable to shake the image of Euphemia's sorrowful bird in that large cage off her mind. If she is the Augurey, this feels like her cage.

But she is not alone in this cage, there's something else here, something dangerous, someone determined to hurt her. And Andromeda does hurt her. Delphini cannot see into her mind at will, but the witch knows enough about  _Legilimency_ to protect herself not with barriers but with her own thoughts.

Not her thoughts. Her memories. Andromeda is finishing their dinner while she muses on about her parents. Delphini sees it all, too curious to look away. She wants to know about them, she wants to learn about them beyond what the wraiths showed her. She should know better, she does know better, but the memories of her parents lure her close and closer. She is mostly listening to Teddy now, barely managing to answer his questions, trusting her hums and nods to do the talking for her. Chuckling and shaking her head when he smiles that way just before he laughs, laughing with him without knowing why. Andromeda pushes thoughts to the front of her mind, and Delphini eagerly clings to them, consuming them, a thirst for knowledge that she cannot quench, an oasis of memories in the barren land of her own memories of her parents.

She should know better, she does know better, and yet she does not leave Andromeda's mind. What she finds there horrifies her. It's like a gruesome magical accident that she can't quite pry her eyes from.

The first memory of her parents is at a ball, some sort of Christmas party. Andromeda was young then, so were her Mother, and Aunt Narcissa, whom she recognizes in the poised figure of a young witch in a periwinkle dress, with her golden hair falling in perfect ringlets. Her attention is focused on the tall creature clad in black silk, with a cascade of black curls falling down her back, pulled away from the face by a silver hairpin. Her Mother. Young and beautiful, walking towards three wizards at the opposing side of the ballroom. _Malfoy Manor's ballroom_ , her mind almost screams in delight. She recognizes two of the wizards from pictures at home: Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy, and the one they share, Cygnus Black. In the third one she recognizes her own semblance, little things here and there that awaken her suspicion, the charming green eyes. And when her Mother is left alone with him, her behaviour tells her everything that she needs to know. The reverence, the adoration in her eyes, she has seen it all before, that night in the Chamber. Her Mother, not much older than herself at the time, talking to her Father, when he was still a handsome man, unmarred by the Dark Arts.

Then the memories change. Gone is the happiness of the ball, replaced by a veritable storm of dark deeds. She hears bits of newscasts from the wireless, and she realizes that the terrible crimes being described bear the signature of her Father and those who followed him. She sees covers of the  _Prophet_  from twenty years before she was born telling of dreadful findings in missing wizard's homes, of houses gone altogether, burned to the ground, of Muggle villages being raided, of the Ministry being overwhelmed with the tidying and erasing of Muggle memories it all required. The memories change again and she sees two dead bodies, side by side, in the Great Hall. A woman with pink hair and a man with a face full of scars and hair that, though brown, looks familiar. _Teddy's parents_ , she realizes. She sees then the first memory for what it was. A lure to better trap her, bait for her to take and swallow whole, unaware of the hook. The hooks are many and barbed, but she manages to let Andromeda's memories go. Teddy's voice saves her.

"Delphie, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, Teddy, I got distracted. I was thinking of the Tournament," a half-lie, a white lie that her cousin does not see through, "do you really think they'll bring it back?"

She makes sure to lead the conversation to steady ground, to something she can truly invest her mind into. She needs to get her bearings back. She knows plenty about the horrors of the wars her Father started, and lost. She knows plenty about the crimes that had her Mother convicted to Azkaban. But those memories, her aunt's memories, are different. They taste of loss, of longing, of a deep melancholy for a future that never was.

Teddy's upbeat mood reminds her of what she risks should tonight spin out of her control. She won't trade her family for her parents. She won't trade their safety for them, never. She won't trade her friendship with Teddy for them.

And she will not let Andromeda risk any of it. She is fine with the idea of being exposed as the daughter of Lord Voldemort, she can stand her own ground, but she is not fine, not at all, with the consequences such announcement would herald for the people she loves.

She loves Teddy, and if keeping him means fighting this witch into silence, her choice has long been made. She loves her family, and if their safety means fighting her own blood, her choice has long been made, ever since that night in the Chamber.

Slytherin through and through, she will fight for the people she loves, until the very end.

X

They are sitting at the table, trying to enjoy the stew in their plates. Andromeda stabs the meat on her plate with her fork; bringing it to her lips while she keeps her eyes on the girl.

Teddy has tried, with that unwavering hope and endless happiness of his, to pull her into the conversation, time and time again, but she always falls back into silence and contemplation.

She looks on as they excitedly debate the possibility of going to Durmstrang or Beaubaxtons should the Tournament come true and happen to be hosted by one of the other wizarding schools. If the Tournament is held abroad, she’ll make sure to send Teddy away. It won’t be so hard on him if they’re forced to spend the year apart, and she won’t have to worry about his safety while she deals with the aftermath.

For Andromeda knows now that this girl won’t be easy to take down. Her ties to Teddy are strong chains that require breaking and smashing, that shall require utter destruction and not simple untangling and sending away. This monster will not be slayed without a fearsome fight, she shall not be scared into surrender.

The girl fell for her ruse at first; she had the monster’s attention, completely, but it soon retreated back to the safety of her own mind, of the lair that she is sure is dark and dangerous. Andromeda had hoped to lure the girl and force a confrontation, but she is too smart for that. As much as she looks like Bella, she has the cool mind of Tom Riddle, not her mother’s recklessness. And that makes this monster all the more treacherous.

So Andromeda conjures up a new plan during her meal, actually making an effort to engage in conversation now. Maybe she can provide the girl with a false feeling of safety, let her back into her mind. She retreated quickly enough, but she had expected some disruption of her behaviour, a crack in her façade, but obtained none. Not only is she a Riddle and Black, there’s something distinctively Malfoy to her. Composure; a way to carry herself and to keep her emotions private. Her father had it, but it was different. Her mother had only a hint of it. Bella sided with the bad tempered side of the Blacks, all rash and fury and instability.

Teddy, true to his Tonks nature, is thrilled once she joins the exchange, unaware of the careful and precise assessment she is making of the girl and of the way the girl measures her up between sentences, as well. For Teddy is a Tonks and happier for it, but they are Blacks and wiser for it.  They are dark creatures circling each other. They haven’t bared their teeth yet, but the night’s air is heavy with anticipation, tingling with their latent magic.

Andromeda pities him, she does, but he has plenty of friends and plenty of people that he treats as cousins anyway, he does not need this girl. He does need to be away from them for a little while, and Andromeda has just the thing.

They finish up the stew, talking about this and that, unimportant subjects that hide their true intentions, Delphini soothes Teddy, teasing him on the way, about his  OWLs, while Andromeda makes sure to give him a stern look. He better not get carried away by the tournament and flunk his exams.

She is surprised when the girl, _Delphini_ she has to force her mind to think, offers to help with the dishes. This creature has had house-elves waiting on her for her whole life, but she effortlessly picks up the dishes, physically, and carries them into the kitchen. She smiles inwardly, thinking that this is her chance, but Teddy is fast on his feet, carrying the pot away and telling her not to worry.

This, she was not expecting at all, and it gives her some pause. Still, she rises from her chair and follows them, waving her wand in the air, setting the dishes to wash. Her plan still stands though, and she decides to enact it.

“Oh, Teddy, I had this dessert almost ready, but I don’t have what I need to finish it here,” she says, her tone perfectly innocent, “will you fetch it for me?”

“What do you need, Grandma?” He is all eagerness to help, a grin on his face as he tosses his hair off of it, sort of combing it back with a careless brush of his fingers.

“Just a couple of eggs and some sugar, please.”

He moves into the pantry, taking no more than two minutes to tell her that they are out of both. The girl’s brows climb her forehead, and she throws her hair over her shoulder as she leans on the counter, crossing her arms on her chest, a gesture so singularly Bella’s that Andromeda clutches the counter top to keep from shivering.

“I can get it from our neighbours,” he says, already leaving the kitchen, halfway to the door.

“You have neighbours here?” The girl seems honestly astonished.

“There are a couple of Muggle families down the road. They're nice! I'll be back in a second."

X

Delphini feels the jolt of magic in the air as her cousin saunters out the door, to fetch cooking supplies from Muggles down the road, as weird as that sounds. Her mind is immediately snapped back from reverie. A spark of magic that ignites the flames of danger in her mind. She has had this irk climbing up and down her back all day long, even before she got here, making her shiver. An ominous sensation of something dark approaching.

This is it. Her own blood is coming for her, she knows it is.

She looks to Andromeda, just in time to see the tip of her wand peek from her aunt’s sleeve. It’s not coming into view though, but retreating. Andromeda’s lips are still murmuring a spell.

She has Confounded Teddy, and she has no idea about what stray thought she has planted in his mind. He may be gone for hours, for all that she knows.

“Don't look so surprised,” her aunt’s voice puts breaks to her galloping mind, “I  _was_  raised a Black, and I was a Slytherin.”

She did not see this coming at all. She had considered the possibility of a confrontation, she is not naïve, and she wouldn’t expect anything less, but she didn’t think Andromeda capable of using her magic on Teddy like this.

Delphini is fast to pull out her own wand, keeping it low but clearly visible by her side. The bone-white yew captures Andromeda’s attention fully, and she uses the time it buys her.

“I cannot let you ruin my family.”

Andromeda laughs, a mad cackle that she supposes mimics her Mother’s famous laughter, tossing her head back and with it her curly brown hair, streaked through by strands of grey and white, gathered carefully in a loose braid. Her wand emerges from her sleeve once more, and the older witch palms it tightly, though keeping it pointed to the floor.

“Your mother said something like that to me, once, right before she refused to ever acknowledge me as her sister again.” There’s a dangerous glint to her eyes, and in that moment Andromeda Tonks is very much a Black, an instable, deranged member of the house with the purest blood of Wizarding Britain. A witch of the House of Black in all her might, powerful and unafraid, come what may, hell or high water.

Delphini holds herself tall, standing straight in defiance. She will not surrender, she will not go down without a fight. If her aunt means to harm her, maim her, kill her, she will have to do so looking into her eyes, her emerald green eyes, the colour of her Father in her Mother’s shape.

Her mind runs again, preparing for what’s to come. Her Father killed his uncle when he was sixteen. She will kill her aunt. Her Father avenged his mother and his wretched childhood in a Muggle orphanage; she will protect her family and assure that no evil goes their way.

"You are just like them, aren't you? Cold and vicious. Taking what you want when you want it. Thinking that everyone else is beneath you," Andromeda says, disdain dripping from her lips with her words, “mocking the world with your poise while you conjure ways to bring your father back… I won’t let you do it, girl.”

Andromeda raises her wand to Delphini’s chest, and she mimics the gesture, watching her aunt’s grey eyes grow wide, while her pupils swollen to a size so large she is almost sure she can see herself reflected in them. She understands now what moves this witch. She does not know her and she bears no desire to do so. All that she sees is Bellatrix Black and Tom Riddle, and Delphini does not need to look into her mind to realize it.

“I’ll get rid of you, girl. You’re a curse, a cursed pretty thing aren’t you? But I’ll keep Teddy safe from you. I’ll keep the world safe from you. I’ll keep them from coming back.”

She is too blind to see her, too blind to see the parts of her that have nothing to do with her parents. All she sees is the danger of close she is to Teddy, even though there’s none for as long as her identity remains a secret.

And at that Delphini sees Andromeda’s goal. She will not be killed tonight, oh no. She will be exposed if her aunt has her way, she will be taken to somewhere far and dark and wet and cold, amidst the stormy seas of the North, and chained to a wall of rock there.

Andromeda wants payback for an entire life of loss after mourning, compensation in blood it seems, and Delphini provided her with the perfect chance for it.

She will stand her ground, but she has a choice to make. She decides to earn herself some more time with yet another reminiscence of her Father. She lets her eyes change at will, and she knows that they will frenzy between colours for a moment, and then settle on red. Ruby red, crimson as blood leaving a dying body. Taking it further, she forces her already pale skin to lose its healthy blush and grow paler, and paler, to that shade of white with bluish undertones that she saw in Rodolphus mind and that night in the Chamber.

It works, and Andromeda staggers backwards, lowering her wand just a little. She is side-tracked by the sight of her, and her mind is frazzled by the eerie fusion of her parents that she has accomplished. She shakes her head, tossing her hair back once more, letting the cascade of black curls capture Andromeda’s attention. It does and she points her wand at the very centre of her aunt’s forehead, thinking _Legilimens_.

She does more than get in, she barges inside, bursting through Andromeda’s thoughts at breakneck speed. She must be sure of her intentions before her choice is made. She sees all that she expected and then some. Andromeda means to have her locked up in Azkaban. Andromeda means to destroy her family by dragging them all with her.

"You'll ruin everything. I can't let you do it,” Delphini tells her, taking a step forward, “they will come after my family." She lowers her wand from Andromeda’s forehead to her body, keeping her upright through the bout of nausea an attack to the mind like that is certain to produce.

"Serves them right, after years of going after the families of others," she manages to say, blinking and faltering a bit where she stands. There is such hatred, such bitterness in her.

She cannot be talked out of this crazed plan of hers. Teddy could come running through the door right now and even he wouldn’t be able to stop her. Andromeda is too far gone into her fantasy, into the reality she has constructed for herself. Delphini saw her thoughts, saw the way she sees her as a dangerous monster, a creature that will steal away Teddy in the night. She believes those lies with all her heart, all her mind, all her sanity and everything that lies beyond it in the vastness of her mind.

Delphini has one last chance to stop this madness, one provided by Andromeda just now. She lets her skin and her eyes turn back to their true colours, and that ignites a vicious spark in the grey eyes that seem to pierce her, seeing right through her, to a time when Andromeda was young and still a Black and a family was taken from her. But her features change again, not just her eyes and her skin, but her face, and her hair as well.

Brown eyes, a slight tan to her skin, bubble gum pink hair. She stands in Andromeda’s kitchen wearing the look of Nymphadora Tonks, and the very flame that she ignited is put out by a mighty blow, drowned in the profusion of tears falling from Andromeda’s eyes.

Delphini is all too aware that this is their defining moment. However Andromeda reacts determines their course from now on. Destruction or dominance, one or the other, there will be no room for compromise.

Andromeda keeps her wand on her, but her arm shakes, and she slowly lets it drop to her side. Her eyes are wide open, but they do not see. They are a window to an immense sea, one with waves of grief and deeps of sorrow, vast and cold. She closes her eyes, shutting her soul away, and the look on her eyes is a steeled one, a rock wall that hates her. But she does not fight. Andromeda does not raise her wand. Merely drops to the floor on her knees, wand clattering at her side, curly dark hair tainted by age falling to hide her face.

The cogs start to turn at that sight. The odd feeling of  _dejá vu_  hammering at her brain, screaming at her mind to see, forcing her to understand. There's a missing puzzle piece somewhere in her mind. Something that will somehow make all of this right, or better, or something else than the horrible truth.

In her dreams, in that old and familiar dream where she is all anger and very little thought, in that dream where she dreams of fighting against herself, where the other version of her falters and gives up, in that dream, the other her has never felt quite right. The other her has felt foreign for months. The dream has been clouded by a weird mist, and so has the other version of her. The other her has changed to have hair like this, she realizes, tainted by grey and some white. The other her lets her shoulders drop like this, lets her wand clatter on the floor without wincing, the picture of defeat.

The other her has not been her for a while. Maybe never was to begin with.

In that dream, she never dreams long enough to know which curse she aims at the defeated witch. She always wakes up, trembling and panting. The brain knows not what lies beyond death and so cannot dream it.

And this does feel like Death’s approach.

X

Andromeda looks up to the witch keeping her at wand point, and now she sees it. The thing that haunts her, that haunted Sirius as well. The curse that they shared all their lives.

The dark cursed blood of Black. She sees it plainly now. The girl too is cursed by it, has been for all of her life. The shadow of her Mother far too great for her to escape.

The look of her own daughter vanishes in front of her eyes. That happy creature she so dearly, painfully, misses gives way to the beautiful, haughty creature her sisters created. A happy Tonks giving way to a mighty creature of Black, now as before, once again and once more, condemned to repetition. They are trapped in the wheel of destiny, which only goes round and round, ever repeating itself, ever crushing her in its unforgiving path.

Looking into her eyes, she sees something else, too. Something that drives a shiver down her spine and raises every hair in her body. A glint in the green, one her mother had in her grey eyes. This girl was never meant to escape the shadow, this girl has grown to love it, cherish it, and find solace in it. This girl is just like Bellatrix after all, with a love for the Dark that runs deep in her blood. Of how deep it runs only Andromeda and a few others know. That glint comes as much from her father as it comes from her mother.

The girl isn't simply cursed, she sees now. She is a curse unto herself. Andromeda's curse. She is the malignant, hungry, black creature that comes for her at night in her dreams. The green-eyed monster that takes Teddy and leaves her behind, forgotten.

She has suffered enough, she has suffered too much. And so she surrenders. She can no longer fight to keep Teddy away from this alluring creature. She would rather not live to see her boy fall for her ruse.

How could he not fall before her? Who could escape such a creature? She is magnificent, a masterpiece of darkness, a predator in essence, even if she does not know it. She was born for the hunt, born for the kill, her magic screams of it within the walls of Andromeda's house.

The girl has fulfilled her father's designs for the perfect weapon it seems. She is the slithering monster that goes unnoticed amongst the innocent. The dark creature that tells of power with her every move, with her every breath. The jewel-eyed lure that pulls people into the cave. The perfect beast. The thing that swallows the unaware whole. The thing that makes wood floors crack and creak in the night, dismissed by those who sleep, those that shall never wake again but for that fleeting second in which her fangs sink in their flesh.

In that last moment, Andromeda allows the very small, shrunken and withered piece of family pride to bask in the sight before her. A goddess of wrath bringing doom and damnation upon those under her power. Inflicting her anger on those beneath her by virtue of their birth alone. Like all angered women of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

 _Toujours Pur_ , her mind thinks one last time.

That proud feeling flourishes in the light that pours from the girl's wand. Then disappears into the air between them, as Andromeda's mind tries to catch up with the present, as her eyes gain a new light, put there by the magic shooting out of the tip of a bone white wand. As the core of dragon heartstring sings to her the familiar song of her own wand, of her sisters’ wands.

" _Obliviate_ ," comes the incantation, whispered softly to the air in the room, almost as if the girl is worried about startling her.

Andromeda's mind is given a second to be confused before she loses conscience.

X

Delphini has made her choice. Andromeda shall not die, not by her hand. She is not her Father and she does not wish him to return, through her or in flesh. Like a bird through a spider web, she disrupts the present, hopefully destroying the future she was born to create.

She erases the memory of tonight’s events, of all that happened after Andromeda asked Teddy to fetch her sugar and eggs, carefully, precisely. Minds can be read, but they are fickle things once one meddles with its threads. Too little, and it’s all worthless. Too much, and Teddy may not have a grandmother to return to. She replaces the memories with a pretty tale of Teddy getting things out from the pantry, and Andromeda finishing the dessert, and all three of them sitting down once more, sticking to the slightly awkward conversation. She adds a finishing touch: herself saying goodbye to Andromeda, to be walked to the door by Teddy.

Once she is done, she dives into Andromeda’s mind at will. There are no thoughts being pushed forward, and she simply skips over the memories of her parents. They all have a hateful veneer, a vengeful veneer that seems to warp them, like old mirrors do. She looks for the moment Andromeda recognized her Father in her, back to the platform, a day so close and yet so far. She pinpoints exactly what it was that made Andromeda realize who her true sire was.

Her eyes. Her emerald green eyes, the same colour of Lord Voldemort’s eyes, way back when the Dark Arts had not marred him yet, before he came back from the dead with eyes of crimson. Her emerald green eyes, which looked nothing like the deep dark pits of Rodolphus Lestrange’s eyes.

She has jostled with her aunt’s mind already, but this feels like something that must be done. This is her path. It is a dark and twisted thing, but if it keeps her family safe, then so be it. She has no ruination of her Mother to avenge, she has no wretched childhood to blame on Andromeda, and so she will not claim her life. Not tonight. Not ever, she decides. Dark and twisted as her path may be, there will not be a trail of dead bodies leading to her. Her choice is made.

Still, she carefully pulls bits and pieces of Andromeda’s memories out of her skull. Without a vial to collect them, the silvery strands exist in the air for a moment, but disappear the very second her wand lets go of them, falling to the floor at first but never reaching the floorboards. Delphini has tears streaming down her face now. She does not regret this, none of it will keep her up at night, but picking through Andromeda’s memories of her Father forces her to see them. It’s a terrible, gruesome, horrible truth, but in the end she still yearns for him. She still wishes for a way to have him back without condemning her family.

She carries on, finishing her task, being meticulous, carefully selecting the precise bits that need erasing. She is a little clumsy at the beginning, but she eventually figures out a way to eliminate the colour of her Father’s eyes from Andromeda’s mind. They weren’t together that often; it seems that her aunt took pride in defying him, but still tried to avoid him for the most part.

When she emerges from Andromeda’s recollections, she has completely lost track of time. Her headache is tremendous, and she has to press her eyes to keep the pain from overwhelming her. She realizes that she cannot go back and try to wipe the memory of how dark Rodolphus’ eyes are. They went to Hogwarts together, they knew each other well before that, there would be too many alterations to be made, and she is not sure Andromeda’s mind could withstand it. What she can do though, is try and clear away Andromeda’s suspicion of her. She goes back into the unconscious witch’s mind, back to that day on the platform, and further back even, to the very first time Andromeda saw her. Her thoughts are a whirl, and she decides not to touch them. She leaves them all as they are, except for that single moment of realization when she connected the green dots. Hopefully, it will be enough. Maybe, just maybe, eliminating the link between her and her Father in Andromeda’s mind will eliminate the entire chain of thoughts, put an end to the daunting future her aunt was willing to conjure.

Teddy comes back then. She can hear him whistle a merry tune, oblivious to all of this, shutting the front door and walking into the kitchen. Andromeda is still on the floor, completely lost to slumber, lying in an unnatural position. She will probably sleep until the sun is high up in the sky come tomorrow. His look is one of utter confusion at the sight before his eyes.

“Teddy, it’s fine,” she says, “I’m sorry but I have to do this. _Confundo_.”

Teddy’s eyes go a little vacant, and he nearly drops the things in his arms. There are eggs and sugar, but also carrots that look like they’ve just been pulled from the ground, and a jar of pickles, only Merlin knows why. Whatever Andromeda did to him, it clearly worked. She Banishes the things to the pantry, Confusing Teddy one more time to be on the safe side. She rearranges his memories of this night to match those of his grandmother, then Confuses him into going to the living room and lounging about for a while. She levitates Andromeda’s sleeping shape all the way down the corridor and up the stairs, then down another corridor and into a bedroom. She leaves her lying on the bed, over the quilt, but sets about looking for a blanket to cover her with. As she leaves the bedroom, she walks past the vanity and sees a silver hairbrush just like hers, but the years have clung to it like sorrow clings to its owner. She leaves it be without sparing a look back, not wanting to dwell on it. She has one more thing to do.

She doesn’t need to disturb Teddy’s mind again. He believes Andromeda has said goodbye earlier and gone to bed, so he says goodbye to Delphini, hugging her as they only do in private, and walks her to the door, looking on as she walks away from the house where her own blood turned on her and tried to destroy her family.

She looks back to make sure that Teddy has closed the door, hoping against all hope that maybe, just maybe, this entirely chaotic evening  has been put to rights, and that it will not come back to haunt her.

And maybe, just maybe, her actions tonight are enough to put an end to the formidable future her parents created together sixteen years ago. Maybe, just maybe, she can take her destiny in her hands and mould it into something else. The crystal orb that sang of her future is shattered already, maybe her future lies in crumbles now, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually meant for this chapter to be a little longer, but this felt like a good place to stop. It carries easily into the next one and doesn’t leave you all hanging at the proverbial cliff. Thank you so very much for reading and reviewing. I’ll get you guys another chapter before Christmas ;) Oh, and there will be at least one more side piece (I managed to finagle one into the forum tasks).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART: Delphi and the Troublemakers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14295234) by [ElectraCute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraCute/pseuds/ElectraCute)
  * [ART: Post-war Malfoys: A Portrait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14299512) by [ElectraCute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraCute/pseuds/ElectraCute)
  * [ART: Teddy & Delphi at Hogwarts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14611002) by [ElectraCute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectraCute/pseuds/ElectraCute)




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